


Merlin of Camelot

by ThePandalien



Series: The Merlin Project (HP) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 114,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePandalien/pseuds/ThePandalien
Summary: In a time before the Statute of Secrecy, when tensions between the magical and non-magical people of Europe are approaching their peak and despots seek to destroy what freedom remains after the fall of Rome, a young man must defend his home against its destroyers. Though born from the darkest evils of humanity he must stand up for its greatest goods. His name is Merlin.
Series: The Merlin Project (HP) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699753
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is something I wrote a while ago and posted to FFN. It's gone through multiple revisions and I must confess that during that process I didn't exactly keep very good track of which documents were the most recent versions. So if you also read on FFN you might notice that there are some differences between the two versions. These should mostly be mechanical and formatting though.

# Prologue

The sky had darkened to a deep iron gray that grew ever darker with each passing moment. The enormous storm clouds loosed a steady downpour of rain, lightning, and thunder upon the city outside as Lord Aurelianus concluded his work for the day. He had been drawing up defense plans with his most trusted friend and advisor Sir Gorlois Pantros. His scouts had alerted him that the fleets of Northmen were once again on the move, looking to sack and plunder the richest city of the Isle of Argentia. He remembered the first time the vikingr had attacked the port city, he had been barely eighteen at the time and he had been asked to lead the knights of the realm to fend off the invaders. They had done it but at great cost. At the time they’d had no naval forces with which to repel the attackers at sea and so had been forced to confront them in the streets of the city. When all was said and done, homes lay in smoldering ruins, merchant’s ships at the bottom of the harbor, and the bodies of raiders and knights, and men, women and children littered the streets. Despite all this he had received a commendation from the then Lord of Camelot, Ethelred Whitecastle and was promised the hand of the lord’s daughter, Lady Anne Whitecastle in marriage.

Over the years, the raids continued each time, with a little less blood as the knights of Camelot adapted to the fighting styles of their new enemies. Eventually, when Ethelred died, and Aurelianus ascended to the throne, he commissioned the construction and training of a naval force to stop the raiders before they reached land. Since then, the Northmen had become less of a terrifying threat and more of a nuisance. Still, it was always good to be prepared.

“I suppose that concludes it then,” Gorlois said as he rolled up the parchment on which Aurelianus’s orders and battle plans had been drawn up. “It just needs your seal and then I’ll deliver it to the naval captains.”

Aurelianus glanced over to his friend. Though he was old enough to be the other man’s father, Aurelianus found that their relationship was more akin to brotherhood. Indeed, though by law Aurelianus was Gorlois’s superior and by custom should always be addressed as my lord, or sire, or any of the other myriad honorifics that Aurelianus had always found perfunctory and rather tiresome, they treated each other as equals. Aurelianus hadn’t been entirely sure why he’d taken a liking to Gorlois all those years ago, but now he realized it was because even then, when he was no more than sixteen, Gorlois had radiated a kind of intense power. This power had nothing to do with his skill with magic nor was it the kind of power that tyrants wielded to intimidate. This power was something noble and beautiful. Gorlois exuded a wisdom and intelligence that far surpassed his years and it came with a confidence and enthusiasm that even Aurelianus’s most experienced and capable advisors found off-putting. Gorlois’s greatest power was not his strength or ability to manipulate and coerce others, but rather his competence.

“Of course,” Aurelianus replied as he took the roll of parchment. He began to reach for the wax to seal the document when the doors to the war room burst open. Both he and Gorlois started at the sudden noise with Gorlois instinctively reaching for his wand which hung sheathed at his side.

In the doorway stood Belerothon, the court page, flushed and breathing hard as if he’d just run quite quickly to deliver an extremely important message. For the young page this was saying something since he took his job very seriously and quite literally ran his errands which undoubtedly made him the healthiest and most in shape person in the entire castle. Aurelianus gave the boy a chance to catch his breath before asking, “What message do you bring?”

“My apologies for disturbing you m’lord, but there’s a woman here to see you. She asked for you specifically. She says her name is Seraphina Ambrosius and she claims to be your niece. She also claims to bring news of...” Belerothon trailed off and even in the dim light from the braziers that lined the walls Aurelianus could see the color drain from his face.

“Who?” Gorlois asked. “Who does she bring news of Belerothon?”

Belerothon hesitated again before appearing to muster the courage to speak again, “The Shadow sir.”

Had Aurelianus not been focused on the page he would have noticed the color drain from Gorlois’s face as well. Gorlois was very in control of his emotions and it was very rare that he displayed emotional extremes, but if Belerothon spoke of the person he thought he spoke of, then Aurelianus was not at all surprised by Gorlois’s reaction. Indeed, considering Gorlois’s history with this _Shadow_ , he was surprised that there wasn’t more of a reaction. “By _Shadow_ ,” Aurelianus began, “you mean...”

“Yes sire, _The Demon_. The one no man can kill who lurks in the dark and is dark itself,” Belerothon replied.

“Those battle plans may have to wait my friend,” Aurelianus said briskly as he began to move with the speed and purpose of someone who feared the world might end should he not act quickly, and in this case, he probably wasn’t far off.

Gorlois, of course, gave no argument and merely asked Belerothon, “Is she in the throne room?”

“Yes sir,” the page replied as he too turned to leave for the throne room. The three of them rapidly made their way through the dim halls of the castle with its smooth stone walls and floors, stained glass windows, and elegant tapestries. Finally they came into the throne room where they found a woman standing in the middle of the room being tended to by Aurelianus’s wife Anne. Though she had only been in young girl when he had last seen her and she was now bedraggled from her journey and soaking wet from the rain, Aurelianus recognized her instantly as his niece Seraphina.

“Seraphina?” he asked as he went to her with Gorlois on his heels. Normally Aurelianus would have dismissed Belerothon at this point, as his task had been completed but Aurelianus was too preoccupied both by the sudden appearance of his niece who, last he’d heard, lived in York and by the news that she claimed to have of _The Demon_. Belerothon didn’t seem to mind not being dismissed. No doubt he was also curious as to what Seraphina knew of the most feared warlock in Europe. As he neared her he also noticed that she was pregnant. It was barely noticeable from where he now stood but the look Anne gave him confirmed it. “Seraphina, what are you doing so far from York? And pregnant no less! Where is Ignatius?” At this Seraphina burst into sobs.

Anne looked helplessly to Aurelianus, her eyes conveying the message that she had been unable to get her sister’s daughter to speak of her trials and tribulations. “Right,” Aurelianus said, his voice reverberating around the large chamber. “Belerothon.”

“Yes sire.”

“Have some servants prepare a room for my niece and get her some clean dry clothes and a warm meal. Once that’s done and she’s ready to speak of what’s happened to her show her back here.”

“Yes m’lord.” With that the page rushed off.

“I’ll go with her,” Anne whispered to Aurelianus as she began to lead Seraphina in the direction Belerothon had run.

“Thank you,” he replied.

Aurelianus and Gorlois stood where they were as they watched Anne and Seraphina disappear through one of the doors leading from the throne room. “What news do you suppose she brings of _The Shadow_?” Gorlois asked.

“I don’t know. But as much as I hope it’s that someone’s finally killed him I very much doubt that’s the case,” Aurelianus replied.

“Finally killed who father?” a voice echoed from behind them.

Aurelianus turned to face his son who’d just entered from one of the other doors of the chamber, “Uther,” he began, “your cousin Seraphina is here from York. She claims to have news about _The Demon_.”

“Does she indeed?” he asked though Aurelianus thought it sounded less like a question and more like a challenge. “You don’t mind if I ask her myself do you father?”

“ _I_ will ask her,” he replied, “but you are welcome to attend when I do.”

“Very well, when do you suppose that will be?”

“As soon as she’s ready,” he replied. “She’s had a long and apparently harrowing journey and she needs to recuperate.”

The corner of Uther’s mouth twitched slightly as if he was suppressing a sneer. “Okay then, just let me know when she’s ready, I’ll be in my chambers.”

Aurelianus had never understood Uther. It seemed his only son had always been somewhat off. Though he’d always displayed a veneer of politeness and civility it was just that, a facade. Underneath there seemed to be a sinister avarice accompanied by a harsh arrogance and deep seated envy and resentment. This frequently prompted Aurelianus to wonder if he’d been a good father. Jupiter knew he tried to be but perhaps he’d been so distracted by running the immense ship of state that he’d neglected his duties as a father.

Even if he had been a less than stellar father he was perplexed by the greed that always seemed to lurk beneath Uther’s glowing exterior. It wasn’t like he wanted for anything. Being the only son of the Lord of Camelot he had essentially grown up in the lap of luxury. He hadn’t needed to toil as Aurelianus had in his youth and to top it all off, it was nearly unanimous that he was the most attractive young man on the whole Isle of Argentia. When he wasn’t in the castle Uther nearly always had a rather large following of girls to swoon over him and a cadre of male friends who enjoyed the status and privileges of being in the good graces of the ruling family of Camelot, or at least the next in line.

Perhaps, that was the problem. Perhaps Uther’s problems were the result of a sense of entitlement. Perhaps he was unsatisfied with what he had because he’d never had to work for it and thus never learned to appreciate it the way Aurelianus had. The thought distressed Aurelianus but there was really no way he could shake it.

The most interesting thing that Aurelianus found about his son was that, for all his unsated desire for more, he never really took more than a passing interest in any of the women who’d thus far tried to win his favor. It seemed to Aurelianus that Uther wanted, above all others, two things. First, the throne, which Aurelianus could only hope would be passed to him when he was truly ready and not a moment sooner. And second, Gorlois’s wife, Igraine. This was why, Aurelianus had learned long ago, Gorlois and Uther had never gotten along. Gorlois had won Igraine’s heart and Aurelianus’s ear leaving Uther without the apple of his eye and the power he so desired.

Aurelianus spent the next few hours waiting restlessly for his impending meeting with Seraphina. He was at once anxious to know what had become of her since their last meeting and what she knew of _The Shadow_ , and anxious to not hear of it. The longer he waited and the longer he thought on his niece’s situation and how she could have come to be here in Camelot in such a state, the more convinced he was that the news she brought would only be bad. Finally the moment of truth came and he composed himself and sent for Uther as he had said he would. He also requested Gorlois’s presence. Belerothon, he kept close at hand in case he had need of the messenger to send word speedily to the relevant persons if a crisis should arise. Belerothon, of course, did not complain as he was equally anxious to be in the know. They all now stood in the throne room facing Seraphina who stood next to Anne, using her as a support.

Aurelianus’s niece spoke softly at first but soon her voice rose so that she could be heard easily throughout the chamber. “Uncle,” she began. “I bring terrible news. _The Shadow_ , has come to Britannia.” She waited a moment to for this to sink in.

“I thought that he was still in Rome,” Uther remarked in reply.

“As did I,” Gorlois answered. “But I have made contact with the wizards hiding among the ranks of the church in Rome and they informed me that, though it was difficult and cost many lives, they successfully expelled him.”

“Indeed?” Uther returned, a sneer barely visible through his facade of politeness. “I’m curious as to how you were able to contact them so quickly. It’s quite a long trip from here to Rome even with one of your owls and in under three hours no less.”

Gorlois merely looked sternly at Uther and replied calmly, “There are more ways for the magicked to communicate than one.”

“Enough,” Aurelianus cut them off before Uther could come up with a retort of his own. “Seraphina, continue. How is it you know this?”

“I know this because I have seen him.”

At this Uther could not conceal his incredulity, “You what! How are you still alive?” He then turned quickly to Aurelianus, “Father surely you cannot believe her.”

“Silence,” Aurelianus commanded.

“How is this so Seraphina?” Gorlois asked calmly.

“He invaded my home some time ago. It was shortly after I had conceived. He seemed to be in search of something at the time, if only I had known what it was he sought. He killed my husband Ignatius and placed me under the imperius curse. Then he...” Seraphina choked up and seemed unable to speak further. She didn’t need to say anything more for Aurelianus to understand what had happened. Eventually she recollected her thoughts and spoke again, “I eventually broke free of the curse and fled. I thought I might be safe with my parents who, though of the gens non magica, are well acquainted with the ways of sorcery. Alas I was wrong. He murdered them as well. This was the only remaining place I could think of to seek shelter from that demon.”

“Interesting,” Uther remarked. “Why did he pursue you and allow you to live a second time?”

At this question Seraphina seemed to hesitate before speaking again, “He wants me for his consort.”

***

Aurelianus and Gorlois spoke to one another in hushed tones, as if they might be overheard by the terror which they now sought to prepare against.. The throne room was now empty save for the two of them and Belerothon. The hour was late and everyone else had retired for the night.

“Aurelianus, I know this may sound insensitive, but what choice do we have? She must leave, preferably before he arrives. You know that if we try to protect her he will raze the city to the ground.”

“I will not abandon my own flesh and blood to that monster,” Aurelianus replied forcefully.

“You know as well as I that neither she nor her child are truly your blood. Furthermore you know that the child she now carries is not her husband’s.”

For a moment Aurelianus remained silent. “The fact that they are not my blood changes nothing. They are innocent and I will not throw them to the wolves. Furthermore, you yourself said that _The Demon_ may be compromised by his lust for her and his hurt at having been beaten by sorcerers he believed to be his inferiors in Rome. This may be our best chance to rid the world of him once and for all.”

“I was merely _speculating_ on his condition.”

“We both know that your ‘speculations’ are more than just that. They’re well informed and carefully reasoned.”

Gorlois sighed in a combination of frustration and apprehension at what he knew the Lord of Camelot was thinking. “Even if I am correct in that he won’t be at peak performance when he arrives, he would still outmatch me and every other witch and wizard in the city. He had no trouble beating me all those years ago and then we were just _students_. He’s had years of practice duelling and killing wizards who are far more skilled than I. It took a carefully planned surprise attack by twenty wizards to expel him from Rome and half of them died in the process.”

“I have no intention of asking you or any other of the magicked to fight him,” Aurelianus replied. “Surely there must be some way to trick him. To entrap him so that we may eliminate the threat he poses.”

“I can think of none. None at least, that would work. When it comes to wit he is my equal.”

“That I do not doubt and that’s what terrifies me. What terrifies all of us. It seems we are at an impasse. We cannot trick him and we cannot confront him directly. Not with magic at least.” At that moment an idea occurred to Aurelianus. “Maybe we can confront him directly. As I recall my friend, you said that _The Demon_ was rather lacking when it came to his skill with a broadsword.”

“Yes, any sword really. But you can’t seriously think of duelling him in that manner. He’s devious, he’d break the rules at the first chance. Unless...” Now it was Gorlois’s turn to have a spark of genius.

“What is it Gorlois?” Aurelianus asked.

“I think I know of a trick that he won’t see coming. I trust you still remember the rules for a formal challenge on Argentia, a duel to the death?”

“Of course, the gauntlet. Why do you ask?”

Gorlois’s eyes looked distant and thoughtful, as if considering a very delicate and important matter with great care. “Yes,” he said more to himself than to Aurelianus. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do...”

***

It was the following night before _The Shadow_ arrived in Camelot. The legends about him said that he could become darkness itself and travel through it the way one might travel through the sea, hence his name, _The Shadow_. The reality did not disappoint. He seemed to materialize right out of the shadows of the throne room as Aurelianus and Gorlois awaited his arrival. Aurelianus had come dressed in his armor, partly as a warning that he would not bargain with the mass murderer and partly because of the plan he had hatched with Gorlois the night before. He had cut his hair and beard which normally grew like a brown lion’s mane around his head and neck to reveal the hard angular planes of his face. He had always been told he had a face that at once made him look young and handsome, but also stern and intimidating. This was why he normally concealed it. People normally found it much easier to interact with him if his stern visage was concealed beneath his beard.

 _The Shadow_ , however, did not seem intimidated in the slightest. Instead he strode forward from the shadows where he had materialized, his shoulder length blond hair swaying slightly as it caught the small gusts created by his swift motion. His eyes were chips of ice embedded in a face that had a constant mischievous grin that conveyed both his malice and his arrogance. “Well, well, well. It seems that I’m expected,” he said, spreading his arms in a gesture that encompassed Aurelianus, Gorlois, and the guards that were now stationed on either side of them. “Gorlois,” he said. “I see now you’re the lord’s lapdog. Up to your old tricks as usual too I see. You’ve managed to conceal the woman from me just enough that I can’t pinpoint her location but not so much that I’d think she left. Clever, clever. You know I won’t risk killing her by simply tearing down the city but really, how long do you think it will be before I break through your enchantments. So just get it over with and tell me. Where is she?”

 _The Shadow_ expected Aurelianus and Gorlois to tell him off, to deny him his prize. That’s what most people did. Those people ended up dead for their foolishness. What he did not expect was for Aurelianus to rise from his throne, pull off his left gauntlet and throw it down to _The Shadow_. “I challenge you to single combat to the death. Tomorrow morning at sunrise, broadswords only, you may bring whatever armor you wish.”

 _The Shadow_ merely looked confusedly at the gauntlet for a moment before the grin broke out across his face once more. “You’re even more foolish than I thought,” he remarked derisively. He bent down to pick up the gauntlet. “Gorlois if this is what you’ve advised your lord then you’re slipping. You both know that I care not for formal challenges or your silly rules. I am above all the laws and responsibilities of men. They are nothing more than silly hindrances you insist on placing upon yourselves.” He turned toward Aurelianus before speaking again, “I will give you one last chance non maj.”

“Your ultimatums are irrelevant, you have accepted my challenge by picking up the gauntlet and so are now bound to duel me for my niece.”

There was a brief flash of anger in the ice cold blue eyes of the dark robed man who held the gauntlet in his one hand and a straight, dark wand in the other. “Duel? No, I refu--” _The Shadow_ cut himself off and froze mid motion as he raised his wand to kill Aurelianus.

“Oh,” he began. “Oh, it seems I’ve underestimated you Gorlois. But that you’ve also underestimated me, at least a little.” He lowered his wand and looked at the gauntlet in his hand. “You’ve enchanted it so that whoever picks it up is magically bound to fulfill the terms of the duel. I assume your plan was that I’d refuse the challenge outright and thus, in violation of a deeply magical contract, would die on the spot. It seems, though, that my sensitivity to such enchantments has foiled your plan.” He now turned back to Aurelianus, “Very well, I accept your challenge. Tomorrow at sunrise.” With that _The Shadow_ dissolved back into the darkness leaving Gorlois and Aurelianus alone.

“That didn’t go quite as planned did it?” Aurelianus remarked.

“No,” Gorlois replied. “No it didn’t.”

***

The sun had not yet peeked over the horizon but the sky was already greying with the coming dawn as Aurelianus and Gorlois made their way from the castle to the tournament arena. They were both in full armor, their mail clinking like sacks of coins as they walked along briskly. “I wish you’d let me take your place,” Gorlois said.

“You know that I wouldn’t let you even if I could. Your charms were specific only to the challenged and the challenger. If I don’t keep my end of the bargain then _I_ die. Besides, how good a swordsman can he be? It seems that the only practice he’s ever had has been with a wand.”

“Not the _only_ practice, just most of it.”

“Still, it gives me a considerable advantage.”

“Aurelianus, Camelot needs her lord. Uther is not ready and you know it. If you should fail--”

“I won’t fail,” Aurelianus interrupted, now fixing his gaze on Gorlois.

Gorlois didn’t flinch from it but merely asked evenly, “Then why have you asked me to prepare the men? Not just the knights but any and all of the magicked in the city who are able to fight. If you truly didn’t think there was a chance of failure then why the precaution?”

“Gorlois, as you’ve told me many times, it is always good to be prepared. To have a contingency plan, or two.” At this last phrase a warm but wan smile broke Aurelianus’s otherwise harsh and intimidating visage.

“Very well,” Gorlois replied begrudgingly. “Just don’t die.”

With that they continued to their destination in silence and arrived at the precise moment _The Shadow_ materialized from a darkened corner of the arena. He wore mail, just as Aurelianus did. A broadsword hung sheathed at his side. His face still bore the same infuriating grin. “Punctual I see,” he remarked offhandedly as he and Aurelianus circled each other. Gorlois stood guard at the edge of the arena watching and waiting, hoping that this would end soon and that it would end for the better. Spectators filled the stands, anxious to discover whether their lord would be bested by the man who until now had merely been a terrifying legend to them, someone to be feared and avoided. In the stands sat Anne, Uther, Seraphina, and, of course, Belerothon. Gorlois’s wife Igraine and their children were nowhere to be seen. Gorlois had instructed her to flee the city with the children as a precautionary measure. While she was not yet gone, she had already sent their twin daughters, Morgause and Morgana, away with relatives to take refuge on the Isle of Hibernia to the north.

As the sun finally became visible over the horizon, Aurelianus and _The Shadow_ drew their swords and stood still for a moment, watching and inspecting each other. Searching for weaknesses. Then _The Shadow_ lunged forward with such ferocity and a cry that would curdle the blood of a dementor. Fortunately, the tactic hadn’t seemed to work on Aurelianus who calmly and expertly parried the blow and launched his own counterattack. The duel had now begun. For nearly another hour the two went at it, _The Shadow_ unleashing all the violence and malice that was his very soul each time and Aurelianus carefully defending and avoiding occasionally going on the offensive but never with the intention of striking down his opponent, not yet. Gorlois knew this technique well. He had learned it from Aurelianus himself and he found it very useful in certain situations such as the one the Lord of Camelot was now in. The idea was to let your opponent’s zealousness and lack of self control be his undoing. To slowly wear him down while defending yourself very carefully and conserving your energy.

It seemed to be working. With each attack, _The Shadow_ grew weaker and more spent, his battle cries less powerful and terrifying and his lunges slower and more sluggish. Finally, Aurelianus saw his opportunity. As _The Shadow_ came in for another attack, Aurelianus blocked and deftly disarmed him. With a quick strike from hilt of his sword to the head, _The Shadow_ collapsed to the ground. Dazed and seemingly on the verge of defeat, _The Shadow_ struggled to get to his feet and make his way to his sword. Instead, Aurelianus kicked him over onto his back and raised his broadsword. As he brought it down on the other man, however, something unexpected happened. Something seemed to cause Aurelianus to miss and it wasn’t until it was too late that Gorlois realized what it had been. A rather small rock, too small in fact for most people to notice had struck Aurelianus’s sword just hard enough and in just the right way to nudge it so that the sword, rather than piercing _The Shadow’s_ chest, pierced the shoulder of his sword arm. The stone had been thrown by Uther. Though the goblin made blade broke through _The Shadow’s_ simple mail armor and caused him to cry out in immense pain, the blow had not killed him. _The Shadow_ , sensing an opportunity that was likely to be his last if he didn’t succeed, grasped Aurelianus’s blade with his gauntleted hand and yelled with all his force and might, “ _Avada kedavra!_ ”

Amazingly, a flash of green light rushed up the sword and blasted Aurelianus backward off his feet. _The Shadow_ removed the sword from his shoulder with another cry of pain and staggered to his feet. He stumbled back into the shadows, not having lost the duel but, injured as he was, not having won either. In another moment he vanished. Gorlois rushed to Aurelianus the moment he hit the ground. It seemed that the curse had not instantly killed Aurelianus, probably owing partly to the fact it was cast through the lord’s sword rather than a wand and also partly due to the fact that Aurelianus’s goblin made armor had protected him somewhat. But only somewhat. Even as Gorlois knelt next to his friend, he could see the life draining out of him.

“Go-- Gorlois,” Aurelianus spoke softly. Gorlois could tell he was in great pain and was struggling to hold onto life just long enough to convey a very important message.

“What, what is it my friend?” Gorlois asked.

“Do-- Don’t let-- Don’t let Uther.”

“What? Don’t let Uther what?”

“Don’t let him hurt Seraphina. Or-- or her child.” At that the lord of Camelot let out a final breath and Gorlois could tell the life had gone from him completely. He had crossed the veil. Gorlois raised his hand to Aurelianus’s face and closed his eyes.


	2. The Secret

# The Secret

“So who are you boys, really?” the man asked them. His name was Ekelhart and he ran one of the largest and most productive farms in the lands surrounding Camelot. In its heyday it had produced enough to feed several cities on the Isle of Argentia and still sell some overseas. Now, though it was still the best in the land, it languished under the boot of Lord Uther Pendragon. Though he knew it wasn’t his place to fight or complain, after all, by the customs of the land he owed his lord tribute, it still rubbed him the wrong way that he had to pay so much of it. In Lord Aurelianus’s day, the costs of the lord’s “protection” were far lower and the payments were far more effective at warding off Camelot’s ever persistent enemies, the vikingr. His policies were turning a once vibrant mercantile society into a backward feudal state. The two mystery boys who regularly came to help him out, for far less than any of the other workers he employed, were a welcome, if small relief.

“We told you,” said the taller of the two as he carefully put away the tools he’d used to clear out the irrigation ditches. The taller boy was blond with bright blue eyes. Ekelhart had met plenty of blue eyed people but often the blues seemed to be either deep and terrifying like the ocean, or cold and harsh like ice. This boy’s eyes weren’t like that at all. They were warm and kind. They shone with a kind of brightness and enthusiasm that seemed to come with his work, a trait that seemed to be growing scarcer and scarcer among the people of Camelot these days. The burden of Uther’s tributes seemed to be weighing people down such that they enjoyed their work less and less. Indeed, they seemed to enjoy life as a whole less and less. It was as if joy was being squashed right out of them. The boy, however, didn’t seem affected.

“I know you told me,” Ekelhart replied. “But I don’t believe you. Who did you say you were again?”

“Oh, just some kids from the city,” the tall one replied. “Just thought we’d help out you know.”

“Uhuh. It’s interesting that your parents don’t seem to need you around to help them out. With the economic doldrums we seem to be in right now I’d think that labor would be at a premium in the city walls just as it is out here.”

“Not everyone’s struggling badly,” the boy replied. “At least not yet,” he corrected somewhat solemnly as if he understood what was going on with Camelot as well as any adult.

“I suppose,” Ekelhart replied skeptically. He glanced over at the other boy who had been working silently throughout the entire conversation. “You’re awfully quiet on the matter.”

The other boy turned to face him. He wasn’t much shorter than the blond boy but you could tell he was younger. If he had to guess, Ekelhart would have said that they were about a year apart. The younger boy had light brown hair and eyes. He looked absolutely terrified by Ekelhart’s remark. It wasn’t the sort of terror one would feel if in imminent danger of death but rather the terror of a small child having been caught in a lie that he couldn’t possibly salvage.

The older boy, however, seemed to come to the rescue, “He just doesn’t talk all that much, that’s all.”

“Really? I recall hearing him talk to you plenty when you were out in the fields,” Ekelhart remarked.

The blond boy merely shrugged, “He just feels more comfortable around me’s all, he’s kind of shy.”

Ekelhart turned back to the younger boy who merely nodded a little too enthusiastically before quickly returning to his work. “Hmph. Alright then,” Ekelhart replied, giving up, at least for the moment, on getting the true identities of his mystery workers.

When they had finished their duties he paid them their silver denars and they went on their way. Once they’d gotten well away from the farm and were nearing their secret entrance to the city, the younger boy spoke. “That was close! I told you he’d catch onto us eventually. They all do.”

“That’s not true,” the older one replied. “They’ve never actually found out who we were, they just got a little too suspicious so we left.”

Together they snuck into the city via a hidden tunnel. As they walked along in the dark the younger boy asked, “Why do we even do this? Going to work for peasants and then giving the money away to peasants.”

The older boy replied, “Don’t call them peasants. They’re people just like you and me. They’re just not as well off and they need help. Not because of something they’ve done, but because of things that they can’t control.”

The younger boy stopped and hung his head somewhat in shame. “Because of my father?” The question had a sort of hurt and ashamed quality to it that the older boy found unbearable. He could just lie and tell the boy that no, his father wasn’t at all responsible for people’s troubles. His father was a good man who served the people of Camelot. It would have been easier in some ways. But ultimately he couldn’t, he couldn’t lie to his best friend like that. No, this boy was more than his friend, they were like brothers. Besides, he would find out the truth eventually.

After a long pause, the older boy replied solemnly but evenly, “Yeah. I take it you’ve been listening to my mum and Gorlois.”

The younger boy simply nodded. In the dim light of the tunnel the older boy could just make out tears forming in his friend’s eyes. The older boy drew him into a hug and spoke gently, “Come now Arthur. Just because your father’s bad doesn’t mean you are. That you sneak out with me to help right some of his wrongs even though he’s forbidden it proves that. One day, you’ll be Lord of Camelot and I know you’ll do what’s right when you are.”

The older boy pulled away and looked Arthur in the eye. Arthur asked with a slight sniffle as he wiped his sleeve across his face to dry his eyes, “But how can you know for sure?”

“Because I know you and I know you want to do the right thing.”

As they turned to continue down the tunnel Arthur asked again, “But Galfridus Arturus says that Julius Caesar wanted to do the right thing too, at least at first, but that he lost his way. Got...” Arthur seemed to be searching for a word. “Corrupted,” he finally finished.

The older boy said nothing, he had to concede that his friend had a very good point. Then he countered, “But your grandfather, Aurelianus was a good lord. He had power and he didn’t lose his way.”

“I guess,” Arthur replied. “But he had Gorlois to advise him and keep him from going wrong.”

“I suppose he did,” the older boy replied. “So you’ll just need to get yourself someone like Gorlois.”

“Well Gorlois is still around isn’t he? At least kind of. I could ask him.”

“Yeah, but he might not be around when you become Lord of Camelot. He says he’ll only be here until his unfinished business is done and then he’ll be gone from the whole world. So you’ll probably need someone else.”

Arthur seemed to think on this for a moment before he spoke up again. “Promise me,” he said.

“Promise you what?”

“Promise me that you’ll be my advisor when I become lord. If Gorlois isn’t around anymore then. Promise me Merlin.”

It was Merlin’s turn to stop walking. He wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say. What Arthur was asking was so far in the future he wasn’t sure he could promise it. But at the same time he couldn’t let his friend, his _brother_ down, and he found it strangely gratifying that Arthur should give him that honor.

“Promise me Merlin,” Arthur insisted.

“I promise,” Merlin replied.

With that the mood seemed to lighten and they talked cheerfully the rest of the way through the tunnel stopping only once more at an intersection with another tunnel where they met Bedivere, a local boy who regularly took the money they got from working and gave it to those most deserving of it, a task which they couldn’t complete themselves lest they be discovered by Uther and his men. From there they made their way back to the castle and came out behind a large stone that hid the tunnel entrance in one of the castle’s many courtyards.

Taking care to look inconspicuous, the boys meandered through the castle as if they had been there the whole day. As usual, no one seemed to have noticed they’d gone. No one, that is, except for Merlin’s mother.

“Merlinus Ambrosius,” Seraphina called from one end of one of the many corridors of the castle. Merlin and Arthur turned immediately to face her, their faces bearing a look of shame much like those of children who’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Come here this instant,” she commanded. “Arthur, you’d better come too. If your father finds out what you two were doing when you were supposed to be having your lessons he’ll be furious.” The boys obeyed and ran to meet her. “Now Merlin, I don’t have any problem with you going out like that,” she said as she led them to hers and Merlin’s chambers, “but you should really leave Arthur out of it. If the lord sees him in this soiled state he’ll know he skipped his lessons with Galfridus and he’ll start wondering where you two’ve been getting off to.”

“But mum we were just--”

“Ah, not here,” she snapped perhaps somewhat too harshly, carefully eyeing a nearby castle guard as they passed him to see if he’d been eavesdropping. When they finally got to hers and Merlin’s chambers, she said quickly but quietly so as not to attract attention from beyond the closed doors, “Now Arthur, go wash up and get into a fresh change of clothes, there should be some here from the last time.”

Arthur did as he was told and Seraphina now turned to her son. “Now,” she began, “you can say, but _quietly_. It’ll be bad enough for us if my cousin finds out _you’ve_ been running around all the time circumventing his orders that neither of you are to leave the castle.”

“Mum,” Merlin began as quietly and calmly as he could, “we were just going down to help out. You know since Uther’s--” Merlin stopped himself briefly at his mother’s warning glare. “Since times are so hard,” he finished.

“You really should be more careful that people don’t hear you, even behind closed doors it’s not wise to speak ill of the lord,” his mother admonished.

“But mum...” Merlin began,though he didn’t know how to finish. He thought it was obvious. He couldn’t see how anyone could simply tolerate Uther.

“But what?” she asked sternly. Merlin didn’t reply. “Oh Merlin,” she said as she knelt down to pull her son into a hug. “I know exactly how you feel, and what you want to do. Personally I’ve never been fond of my cousin but you need to understand that there are things we have control over and there are things we don’t.” Merlin was not satisfied with this explanation but he returned his mother’s embrace and did not argue. She then whispered gently in his ear, “We, of all people, need to be extremely careful. If Uther finds out about your secret...”

Of course, the ever present secret. It was like an axe that was perpetually raised above their necks, just waiting to fall and destroy their lives forever. In many ways, the metaphor wasn’t all that far off, though Uther, contrary to church doctrine, much prefered burning people like Merlin to simple decapitation. His mother had told him stories of Camelot before Uther. How it had once been a great and thriving port city. How common and learned men alike still spoke the classical languages of Greece and Rome and worshiped their gods as well as any others they wished. Most wondrous of all was the acceptance of magic. The gens magica and non magica alike got along and lived as neighbors. In the days of Aurelianus, a wizard had even become the lord’s right hand.

Uther had done away with all that. He brought the church into Camelot and outlawed the old pagan beliefs bringing the last pagan city in Argentia into the Catholic fold. Uther imposed taxes that made it difficult for people to get by while spending the money on his personal desires. Worst of all, for Merlin at least, he had made sorcery punishable by burning. The first victim of Uther’s magical purges, though few knew it, even now when his ghost had haunted the halls of the castle for over a decade, was Lord Aurelianus’s old friend and most trusted advisor Gorlois. Gorlois had told Merlin the story of how it had happened once. After all, even though he’d been dead most of the time, he’d seen it all. Gorlois’s ghost had told Merlin about how Uther had engineered his father’s death at the hands of _The Shadow_ , and thus his rise to power, with a single expertly aimed stone, how he’d been tricked and murdered by the young lord. How when his ghost had started manifesting Uther had sought a means to prevent him from ever entering the presence of his former wife Igraine to tell her of Uther’s treachery. When he’d finished the story he’d remarked that he was just glad his daughters were safe from Uther’s hands, though his Igraine still believed them to have been killed by vikingr on the way to Hibernia.

After a few moments of hugging, Arthur came out of the washroom dressed in a clean set of clothes. “The water’s stopped running again Mrs. Ambrosius,” he informed her as Merlin and his mother drew apart to look at the slightly damp Arthur.

“Of course it would,” Seraphina remarked. “They’ve only got half the people they need down at the pumphouse, the rest are either too sick or too hungry to work.” Then she muttered under her breath, “What is this, London? First Uther kicks out the Romans then he kills their engineers.” Though no part of Argentia had ever become truly part of the Roman Empire, all its cities had, at one point, adopted much of their culture and gone to their schools to learn the ways of their engineers and other learned men. Most of them had kept these aspects of the late civilization to some degree or another even when the Empire had not. Now it seemed that Camelot, of all places, was fated to descend into the same darkness as much of the rest of Europe.

“You’d better run along Arthur before you get caught,” Seraphina said. “I’ll wash your clothes for you.”

“Thanks,” he said cheerfully before sneaking out into the corridor.

“Is Gorlois here?” Merlin asked.

“Yes, and he’s very disappointed that you missed your lessons with him. You know you have to practice if you don’t want to wind up with an obscurus.”

Merlin had heard this many times from his mother though by this point he didn’t believe it. Gorlois had told him that after a certain point, there really was no chance of developing an obscurus anymore. Indeed, while Gorlois may have put on a show of disappointment for Merlin’s mother, he secretly approved of Merlin’s extracurricular activities. He said they were good, not just for him, but also for Arthur. Gorlois believed that one of the reasons Uther turned out so badly is that he never had to work a day in his life. He’d always gotten what he’d wanted and so had been spoiled. When he got old enough to understand the implications of political power, he’d had neither the perspective nor the humility needed to temper his ambition.

Merlin went off in search of his undead teacher who had been like a father to him. He finally found him seated, if you could call it sitting, at a writing desk next to a window, the late summer sun pouring in. “Hi Gorlois,” Merlin greeted.

The ghost looked up from the manuscript he was reading. How ghosts could read Merlin couldn’t understand as it would be quite difficult to turn the pages. Somehow, though, whenever he encountered Gorlois, he seemed to be reading something. “Ah Merlin,” he said. “I trust your mother has given you her customary remonstrance.”

“She has,” Merlin replied.

“You know, I’ve tried to tell her,” Gorlois said.

“Tried to tell her what?”

“That I really can’t teach you anything more.”

“But you’ve only taught me the simple things, you said so yourself. And well, you’re probably one of the greatest wizards in history.”

Gorlois’s ghostly form chuckled slightly, “You flatter me Merlin but I must correct you, I _was_ a wizard, and in truth I was merely somewhat above average. I could never hope to compare to the likes of the ancient witch kings and queens. Now, I’m merely an imprint on reality. A tiny piece of my former self that just can’t let go of the world, not yet anyway. As such there’s only so much I can do to teach you. Sure, I could tell you spells and the theory behind them, but such instruction would lack the practical perspective which is critical. Then there’s your wand.”

“What about it?” Merlin asked.

“Well, it’s not really yours, it’s mine.”

“But you gave it to me,” Merlin replied.

“True, but one cannot simply give away a wand, even if they’re alive. You see wands aren’t just magic sticks with magic cores. In many ways they’re alive and different wands will behave differently. Not all wands are compatible with all wizards. There’s some give and take involved. The wand chooses the wizard but so to does the wizard choose the wand and over time they adjust to one another. Some wands are more mercurial than others, their loyalties can change on a whim. Others, like mine, of cedar and phoenix, do not change so easily. You recall that when you first started it resisted you?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “But not anymore, not really.”

“But it doesn’t really work _with_ you either,” Gorlois remarked.

“No, I guess not. So I guess I’m just stuck like this then? With just the basics?”

“For now, until you can get a wand of your own and a suitable _flesh and blood_ teacher, the most you can do for learning is to study the literature on magic. How long will it be before you can truly come into your own as a wizard? That really depends on how long Uther remains in power which could very well be a long time.”

“So should I start reading books on magic?” Merlin asked.

“That’s entirely up to you. Do you think your time will be better spent hunched over an illegal book trying to discern its secrets or do you think you’d be better off doing what you’ve been doing with Arthur of late?”

Merlin didn’t know how to respond. He thought for a moment. Personally he didn’t want to stay cooped up inside reading from dusty old texts that were supposed to have been burned along with the witches and wizards of Camelot, but at the same time, he understood that what he wanted in the moment wasn’t always what was best for him overall and in the long run. Finally he asked, “What do you think I should do?”

“I can tell you what I think Merlin, but I can’t tell you what to do. I think that there are advantages and disadvantages to both. If you spend your time learning from the ancient texts, you’ll be better able to learn magic quickly and effectively when you are able to practice. It will make you an even more powerful and advanced wizard than you already are. But it would also take time away from your friendship with Arthur which I know is important to you. Indeed it may be important to the rest of Camelot as well. Whether you realize it or not, Arthur looks up to you and, for now at least, wants to do the right thing because you do too. If you become more reclusive and strain your friendship, who’s to say what will happen. Nothing may happen, or the worst might happen.”

Merlin stood silently thinking over Gorlois’s words. Ultimately, for Merlin, it came down to a question of power or friendship. Though he deeply valued his friendship with the lord’s son, he could not deny that he found the idea of power tempting. If he could learn enough from the books he could overthrow Uther and make Camelot right again, just the way his mother had described it to him. But there was something nagging at his mind, it was his conversation with Arthur in the tunnel earlier that day. How they’d talked about people being corrupted by power. Still, Gorlois had said it himself on numerous occasions. Merlin was clever and wise beyond his years. Surely with such intelligence and wisdom he could use his power for only good. Then something else came to mind. It was from that very same conversation and it was only two words, “I promise.” Merlin realized now that it was more than a promise to keep Arthur from going down the path of darkness when he became lord, it had been a promise that he himself would not go down that path. It had also been a promise to remain friends with Arthur, forever. “I think I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing,” Merlin finally replied looking up at Gorlois.

“Very well,” Gorlois replied, giving no indication as to whether he approved or not.

***

That night after Merlin’s mother had tucked him into bed, they received a visit from Uther. Merlin had not yet fallen asleep and had snuck out of bed to eavesdrop on what his mother and the lord were talking about.

“Good evening cousin,” Uther said, though it was obvious that the statement was merely perfunctory for him. Something you said just because it was part of the culture and expected of you. Merlin remembered his mother telling him that Uther had once made an effort to at least appear polite and good. Now that he was lord though, Merlin saw no such facade.

“Good evening my lord,” Seraphina replied reciprocating Uther’s dour mood. She knew that his unexpected visit couldn’t mean anything good.

“You know, I’ve heard the strangest thing,” he began. “I heard that my son, and your son, have been sneaking out of the castle on occasion.”

Though Merlin stifled a gasp, his mother showed no outward discomfort at the revelation. She merely said evenly, “That is strange indeed cousin.”

“Yes, I thought so. At first I thought there must have been a mistake, after all, Arthur never misses his lessons with Galfridus. I knew this because he always seemed able to answer correctly when asked various questions about the subject of his lessons. I thought it must have been some other boys that people saw who simply looked like our children.” Uther paced slowly around the room as he spoke.

“But then, I spoke with Galfridus and he tells me that he hasn’t actually been giving Arthur regular lessons in person for quite some time. Rather he’s been giving Arthur books to study from with the occasional one on one. So, my son’s whereabouts were not actually accounted for as I’d thought. So I decided to send someone to watch after them, to follow them.

“This all happened about a week ago Seraphina. I didn’t get any news of note until today you understand. Today, my spy was actually able to follow them, and he discovered a secret tunnel leading from one of the castle courtyards to outside the city walls. The tunnel was so small, only a child could fit through it so my spy could not follow. But he was certain that they were leaving the castle. I would very much like to know exactly _where_ they’ve been going when they sneak out against my wishes.”

“Why don’t you ask Arthur,” Seraphina replied.

“I did, and at first he wouldn’t tell me. But a good whipping set him straight. Of course I couldn’t believe what he’d told me. He said that they’d been going out to do _work_ as in manual labor, for the townsfolk. And that they would give their meager earnings to some boy called Bedivere who would give it to whomever he thought was most deserving of it. In other words, he told me that not only have they been disobeying my orders to remain within the castle, but that they’ve been circumventing my tax laws.

“Tell me cousin,” he said, his temper clearly rising. “Was this an idea _you_ put in their heads or did that little _bastard_ of yours come up with it on his own.”

Merlin’s mother replied coldly and evenly, “He is _not_ a bastard.”

“Let’s not delude ourselves Seraphina,” he spat. “Merlinus looks nothing like Ignatius. You either had an affair with someone while you were married, which is detestable enough, or else you lied about when you became pregnant and you got over your late husband _very_ quickly.”

Seraphina’s fury was quite obvious though she tried desperately to maintain control. Uther, noticing that he’d hit a nerve seemed satisfied. “You know, I also know of another secret you’ve been keeping from me.” Uther paused for a moment, no doubt enjoying keeping his cousin in suspense. “I know that your _bastard_ child is a sorcerer.” At this statement the color drained from Seraphina’s face as her eyes widened in terror. “Oh yes,” Uther replied, now bearing his teeth like a rabid animal. “So who was he cousin? Did you fall in love with a dashing young sorcerer and give birth to a bastard? Or did you consort with the devil?”

Seraphina seemed to regain her composure and her defiance. She rose from where she was seated and brought herself to within inches of Uther’s face. She whispered harshly, “I’ve consorted with no devils though they certainly would have desired it.”

Uther seemed suddenly confused, both by his cousin’s sudden flash of vehemence and by her odd statement. “What’s that supposed to...” from his hiding place Merlin could see realization dawning on his face. “No, it can’t be. But how else? Now that I think about it, his hair, his eyes...

“You said you were... Then he is.” Uther’s face hardened. “You had the gall to expect me to let a child of that _monster_ live under _my_ roof for eleven years. You had the gall to lie to me about the son of the man who killed my fa--”

“Oh please Uther,” Seraphina interrupted. “We both know that you killed your father in the end, with that little trick with stone.”

“What trick with what stone?” Uther asked incredulously.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. Uncle Aurelianus was on the verge of defeating him then, when everyone was distracted and focused on the final moment, the moment of truth that would decide the fate of Camelot, you threw a small stone just hard enough to nudge your father’s sword. In the end _The Shadow_ was defeated, though not dead, and your father died leaving the throne to you.”

“And who told you this fantastic lie?” Uther asked.

“Gorlois,” Seraphina replied curtly.

“Gorlois is dead,” Uther replied.

“Thanks to you, yes. But just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he’s gone forever. You know he’s still around. You know his ghost haunts these halls. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten that wizard to enchant Igraine so he could never appear in her presence. A wizard who you subsequently had burned along with all the others in Camelot.”

“What?” cried Uther. “That’s preposter--”

“You didn’t want her finding out what really happened to her husband and daughters did you?” Seraphina interrupted. She knew she should probably stop, that she shouldn’t push Uther over the edge, but she couldn’t. For the first time in a decade she felt she finally had the upper hand on her cousin. “Because if she found out, she never would have married you.”

Uther’s face now registered a kind of blind fury that would have made even the bravest of Camelot’s knights tremble. “I will have your bastard _burned_ cousin. He will die and you will pile the kindling that kills him.”

Ice traveled through Merlin’s blood. Every instinct told him to run but he couldn’t bring himself to move from his hiding place. “You can’t,” Seraphina said, though it wasn’t a cry or a plea, it was more like a statement of fact.

“I’m sorry?”

“You can’t kill him Uther, Gorlois saw to that. As long as I live he can’t be harmed. The last thing Gorlois did before you murdered him was to enchant us.”

“Then I’ll just have to kill _you_ first!”

“You can’t do that either, not while I reside in this castle.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Queen Rhiannon, AD 132,” Seraphina replied.

“What?” Uther asked, his anger turning somewhat to confusion.

“You really should have paid more attention to your history lessons Uther. In AD 130 Camelot became engaged in a civil war that drew in some peoples from the other cities of Argentia. The war was started by an internal conflict among members of the royal family of Camelot. Each of the seven factions was led by one of the seven children of Lord Horatius Whitecastle who died without naming his successor. Eventually, in 132 there remained only two factions but there was still no end in sight for the war. At this time, to prevent the war that had encompassed most of the island, the lord of Borthladd Britannia asked for assistance for the Welsh witch queen Rhiannon. She came to the aid of Argentia and put a stop to the war. It was her who established the custom of the throne of Camelot passing to the eldest child of the previous ruler and to prevent further royal bloodshed she enchanted the castle such that those of royal blood could not harm each other while they resided in it. We are both descended from the Whitecastles and we both live in this castle. You cannot lay a finger on me or my son while we live here and if my son should leave for whatever reason, you cannot lay a finger on him until _I_ am dead.”

“You seem very sure of this,” Uther remarked. “If you’re so confident then why didn’t you just come out in the open before? I’ll tell you why, because you know that, as with all histories, they are subject to error. You don’t know with certainty that I’ll be unable to harm you and Merlin so instead of being open about the whole thing, you’ve been lying and keeping secrets, and now that I’ve exposed you you’re making empty threats.”

“If you’re so confident that they’re empty, then why haven’t you done anything yet? Why haven’t you summoned your guards to take us away and execute us? Now _I’ll_ tell _you_ why. You haven’t taken any action because you’re not certain they are empty. You think maybe there’s a chance you’re telling the truth and you know well enough what happens if you try to defy magic as ancient as and unforgiving as that. Death, and _eternal_ pain. You won’t even cross into the veil like the rest of us, you’ll just languish as an empty shade until the end of days. And that’s a risk you don’t want to take.”

Uther and Seraphina stood mere inches from one another for a few more moments, glaring daggers into each other’s eyes. It wasn’t until Merlin started getting dizzy that he realized he had been holding his breath. “It seems, cousin,” Uther finally said. “That we are at an impasse. For now, at least.” With that Uther turned to leave, his blood red cape fluttering as he did.


	3. The Stranger

# The Stranger

The following night Merlin and his mother were invited to dinner with Uther, Igraine, and Arthur. It was quite rare that they actually ate dinner with the lord and his family, usually they just took their meals in their chambers but tonight, things were different. Even Igraine seemed to understand that there was something up. That Arthur had been abused the night before, she could tell that much, though she knew not what she could do about it. If she tried anything, Uther would almost certainly have her thrown out of the castle or worse, executed while Arthur would remain trapped in the castle by his father. Igraine could not, however, fathom what was the matter with Seraphina or her son. She could tell that her husband was locked in some intense, but silent, conversation with his cousin but what passed between them seemed to be _only_ between them.

Merlin, on the other hand, knew full well what was going on. He knew that they were continuing their conversation from the previous night. At the same time though, Uther had brought them there to keep a close eye on them. Indeed, Merlin had noticed that he was being followed as surreptitiously as possible all throughout the day. The rock behind which he and Arthur usually escaped to the outside world had been covered with an even larger mass of stone so as to prevent any further use of the passage it guarded.

Now they all sat, eating in awkward silence, aware of the tension that was slowly building to a breaking point but generally unwilling to address it for fear of exacerbating the situation. Finally, Igraine spoke up in an attempt to make small talk and calm things down, “So, Merlin--” she began before being interrupted by Uther who slammed the table and rose to his feet abruptly. It seemed that Igraine’s attempt to head off the oncoming storm had produced the exact opposite effect and had only hastened its arrival.

Merlin and Arthur both instinctively flinched and prepared for the worst. Before Uther could say or do anything more, though, the doors to the dining room burst open to reveal Belerothon who, even after more than a decade, still served as court page. When Uther had come to power, he had replaced virtually all his father’s men with his own. Belerothon was one exception. Whether he’d been kept because Uther didn’t see him as all that important, or because no one could best Belerothon at his occupation, no one really knew. Perhaps it was a combination of the two. Whatever the case, he still remained and still served the court faithfully, even though he very much disliked the current leadership.

“M’lord, there’s a ranger here from Hibernia, he claims to have news of a fleet of vikingr and requests your hospitality,” he said.

Uther, who normally would have been angered by such an intrusion upon his meal, and his approaching tantrum, merely asked confusedly, “What?”

Merlin noticed that Belerothon had a tendency to have that effect on people. The way he delivered his messages was so matter of fact and so rapid that it often took the wind out of people’s sails.

“There’s--” Belerothon began to repeat before Uther spoke again, interrupting him.

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time,” Uther replied, apparently getting his wits back about him as his usual air of annoyance returned. “Where is he?”

“He’s in the throne room m’lord,” Belerothon replied dutifully.

Uther turned from the table, apparently not so inept when it came to his job that he would pass up information on Nordic raiders just so he could tear into his cousin. “Did he give a name?”

“Yes m’lord,” Belerothon replied. “He says his name is Salazar.”

“Salazar?” Uther asked as he neared the door. “Doesn’t sound like a Hibernian name.”

As Uther left the dining room he left the doors open with Belerothon standing, still at attention, in the doorway. Once Uther’s loud footsteps on the stone flooring had faded Igraine spoke up again, “What was that about?” Her question was directed at Seraphina but it was Merlin who answered. At the time he didn’t really know why he’d done it, but looking back, he realized that he’d done it for a number of reasons. For one thing, he was still shaken from the conversation he’d overheard the night before and frankly what Uther had said and done between then and now terrified him. Perhaps most importantly though, he couldn’t stand lying anymore, especially not to Arthur. “He knows I’m of the gens magica,” Merlin blurted. “But he can’t do anything about it because of something some Welsh queen did hundreds of years ago.”

The reactions from those present were varied. Igraine, merely looked confused, while his mother looked at him in terror of what he’d just done. Arthur seemed to understand perfectly what was going on but was unsure how to handle it. Merlin expected all these reactions. What he least expected, was Belerothon’s reaction. Belerothon did not off to the relevant authorities to deliver what was surely an important message regarding a massive violation of the laws of Camelot, or gaze upon Merlin in awe or terror, or even just stand there, stiff as a pole the way he’d done when Uther had left. Instead, a smug grin spread across his face. “What?” Merlin asked.

Belerothon simply said, the smug grin still on his face, “I figured as much.”

Now it was Merlin’s turn to be confused.

“How?” Seraphina asked, her voice soft and distant, like someone trying in vain to comprehend the incomprehensible.

“I had my suspicions when you first showed up and told us your story. I figured, ‘What are the chances that _The Shadow_ chooses you for his consort and then rapes you _while_ you’re pregnant? Surely a great sorcerer like him would have noticed that or found a way around it.’ But I dismissed the thought to begin with because it really wasn’t my place to speculate, besides the implications would be quite scandalous. 

“But then, I started noticing some odd things going on around young Merlin when he was three or four. Things that could only be explained by magic. Now most of the staff didn’t notice it for a number of reasons. For one thing they rarely saw young Merlin. I, on the other hand, run all over the castle delivering messages and running other errands which means that I have opportunities to come in contact with virtually everyone in the castle several times a day. Second, most of these new guys haven’t seen a spot of magic in their entire lives so they probably wouldn’t know it if it slapped them in the face. I, however, was around in the days of good ol’ Sir Gorlois and he was a wizard if I ever saw one.”

“A wizard,” Igraine butt in, “who I also happened to be very happily married to before his untimely death. I think I would have noticed if Merlin was a wizard Belerothon.”

“True, but how often do you really see Merlin? I reckon you didn’t spend enough time around him to notice his abilities.”

After this last statement, everyone remained silent for a few moments. Finally, Seraphina spoke up again. “Merlin, you shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

“But mum,” Merlin protested. “You said so yourself that he can’t hurt us because of Queen Rhiannon.”

“First of all, you should have been asleep and _not_ eavesdropping. Second, just because Uther can’t do anything or order anyone to do anything to hurt either you or I, that won’t stop other people from taking it upon themselves if they think they can benefit by it. We’re lucky no one else heard that but now even more people know your secret and your remember what we say about secrets?”

“Three men can keep one if two of them are dead,” Merlin replied, finally realizing what he’d done and wishing he could take it back. But what was done, was done. Now he just had to hope that nothing bad came of it.

“You can count on me to keep your secret Merlin,” Arthur said, speaking for the first time that night.

Merlin was surprised by Arthur’s promise. Ever since the night before, he’d been certain that Arthur wouldn’t want to have anything to do with Merlin anymore. He’d led Arthur on one too many adventures outside the castle and they’d gotten caught and Arthur had had to pay for it with a beating. Merlin had been certain Arthur would have blamed him.

“But I got you in trouble,” Merlin protested still not believing his friend.

“He would have found some other reason to whip me,” Arthur replied sagely. “Probably would have done it for talking about Gorlois.”

“Arthur don’t!” Igraine exclaimed, causing everyone else to jump. Her late husband had always been a touchy subject with her. She generally preferred to avoid talking about him or her daughters by him. Merlin sensed that there was some small measure of guilt for marrying Gorlois’s foremost rival so quickly after his death. Normally, she simply dropped hints that she didn’t want to talk about him through her body language or her intonation and phrasing whenever he was mentioned. But one day, after Arthur had first encountered the deceased man’s ghost in Merlin’s chambers, he’d gone and told his parents that the wizard’s ghost haunted the castle and had been “living” with Merlin and his mother. Uther, of course, had reacted very badly, but so had Igraine. Merlin supposed that if it was bad enough for her to simply talk about a man who was _just_ dead, it had to be absolutely terrifying and utterly inconceivable for her to even _consider_ that his spirit still lingered on this side of the veil.

After his mother’s outburst, Arthur remained silent. At that moment, Belerothon chose to speak up himself to break the tension. “Well, I don’t suppose I’ll be telling anyone either. Afterall, I’ve kept your secret this long, though you didn’t know it.

***

The next morning, Merlin and his mother, along with Gorlois, received an unexpected visit from none other than the mystery ranger Salazar. “Good morning,” he greeted when Seraphina answered the door. The greeting was not warm, but was cold and perfunctory and concealed contempt though for what none of them knew. “I wonder if I might enter,” he said.

“Certainly, come in,” Seraphina replied, though her response was somewhat hesitant and cautious as were her movements as she closed the door behind the man. “May I ask to what we owe the pleasure.”

“I’ve come to offer a proposal actually,” he replied as he turned back toward the door and reached up the left sleeve of his green tunic. “I wish to invite your son, Merlinus, to become apprenticed to me,” he said.

It was at this moment that Merlin walked into their anteroom to see the stranger draw what was obviously a wand from his sleeve and point it at the door. “ _Verbum confunderi_ ,” he incanted before carefully stowing his wand back up his left sleeve. “Now,” he said, “we can speak freely.”

Both Merlin and his mother gazed at him in surprise. “But you’re a...” Merlin began but could not seem to finish.

It was Gorlois who finished as he drifted through a wall into the anteroom, “A wizard. Yes, it would seem he is.” Gorlois seemed to study the wizard before them. As wizards went, he was young, probably about thirty though his youth didn’t conceal the slow creep of age that even the magicked, with their various tricks for cheating death and prolonging life, could not avoid. There were some streaks of gray in his black hair and some wrinkles were beginning to form at the edges of his eyes. His hairline was receding somewhat and though he could be described as relatively handsome at the moment, Merlin could see him easily being described as monkey-like once he got older and his hair fell out entirely. “Perhaps we should sit,” Gorlois suggested, motioning toward the chairs that sat in the antechamber.

Once they sat, the man introduced himself more formally. “My name is Salazar Slytherin,” he said. “My reasons for enchanting your door so that those outside hear nothing but normal conversation are quite simple. I have come here to discuss something that, while commonly shunned and persecuted in other places in the British Isles, is actually outlawed here. Id est, I have come to discuss magic, specifically young Master Ambrosius’s magical education.”

“Magical education?” Merlin’s mother asked confusedly. “But how did you know--”

“That he was a young wizard?” Salazar interrupted, once again eyeing Merlin’s mother with some degree of contempt and mistrust. “Let’s just say that his name has been written in our ledger, and the ledger is _never_ wrong. I saw to that myself.”

“You say ‘our’ ledger,” Gorlois piped up. “I take that means you work for an organization of some kind, some sort of magical society.”

“More like with than for,” Salazar replied. “And I’m not sure it would really qualify as a society the way the Magia Dei are. For the moment it is really just four of us attempting to realize a vision.”

“And what vision would that be?” Gorlois asked.

“Hogwarts,” Salazar replied.

“What on earth is Hogwarts?” Merlin asked suddenly before realizing that such a sudden outburst might be perceived as rude. Fortunately, Salazar didn’t seem to think so.

“I asked myself the same question when Rowena came up with the name but she was rather insistent. Something to do with prophecies and omens.” It seemed that Salazar hadn’t been speaking to Merlin so much as he had been musing to himself. Finally though he came back to his senses and answered Merlin directly, “Hogwarts is, or rather will be, a school. My fellow founders and I have created it explicitly for the purpose of teaching children of the gens magica from around the British Isles. The unfortunate nature of our world today is that where magic was once not simply accepted but venerated, it is now shunned and persecuted. This has caused a rapid decline not simply in willing teachers due to the ever growing necessity for secrecy, but also in the total magical population as a whole. It used to be that people of magical blood would become apprenticed to one who was older and more versed in the ways of magic than they were. A wizard would usually take on no more than two or three apprentices at a time. This allowed for very effective instruction, but the process was slow and inefficient. When there were more witches and wizards who could teach the younger generations and when they could do it openly without fear of persecution, this was highly effective. Now, however, times have changed. Thus, my fellow Hogwarts founders and I have taken it upon ourselves to invent, or rather adapt, a new method for transmitting our magical ways from one generation to another.”

“By creating a school,” Seraphina said. “So you seek to gather the most vulnerable of the magical population in one place to teach them and then just hope that none of the lunatics who want to kill you find you.”

Now Salazar’s annoyance and contempt for Merlin’s mother seemed to come closer to the surface than before. “No,” he said flatly. “We seek to gather and teach them, yes. Our model for doing so will be more efficient if less thorough than the older methods. But we won’t simply stand around and hope that no one notices a thousand magical people hiding in a remote corner of Scotland. The grounds of the school will be protected by the best enchantments known to wizarding Europe and some that are known only to us, the founders. We’ve searched far and wide and put all our considerable efforts into creating and protecting this establishment. We even went as far as to seek assistance from the headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute which serves the magicked in both Scandinavia and the Holy Roman Empire.” Once he’d finished, Merlin thought he’d heard the wizard mutter under his breath, “But I wouldn’t expect _you_ to understand that,” but he couldn’t be sure.

“So you’re here to invite Merlin to attend this school of yours,” Gorlois stated matter of factly.

“In short yes. It’s a boarding school so he shall have to bring enough of his belongings with him for nine months. Food, of course, will be provided, among other things. I’ve even brought a list of things he will need to bring for his studies. The wizard extracted a piece of folded parchment from a pouch and handed it to Merlin.”

Merlin didn’t open the parchment immediately but instead looked up at the man. “But I’m already getting a magical education, from Gorlois,” he motioned toward Gorlois as he said this.

Salazar looked at the ghost and spoke to him, “It is admirable of you to teach him, especially considering your condition but I must point out that there is only so much the living can learn from the dead.”

“A statement with which I concur,” Gorlois replied. “However, there are some things to be considered before Merlin can accept _or_ decline your invitation.” At this last statement Gorlois gave Merlin a pointed look, one that silently admonished him to be patient and think something over carefully before speaking or acting on it.

“Of course,” Salazar replied. “I understand, but please keep in mind that there are some logistics to sort out for him to actually attend so you understand that I cannot wait too long for your answer.”

“Of course,” Gorlois replied.

“May I ask,” Salazar began. “That is, if it’s not to intrusive, are you young Master Ambrosius’s father?”

“By blood, no,” Gorlois replied. “However, I have ‘lived’ with and taught him since his birth. But I did know his father. He was a great wizard, but by no means a good one.”

“I see,” Salazar replied. “And may I ask, how have you been teaching him thus far?”

“As best I can,” Gorlois replied. “I have taught him some basic spells. For a while he struggled with them but that was probably due mostly to the fact he did not have his own wand but rather had to use mine.”

“Yes, I can see how that would make matters difficult.” Now Salazar turned to Merlin, “May I see this wand?”

Merlin wasn’t quite sure what to do. He glanced surreptitiously toward his mother who looked like a sealed jar trying to burst open from pent up anger, annoyance, and concern. Merlin finally decided that if Gorlois trusted the newcomer, which he seemed to, he might as well trust him as well. Merlin quickly got up from his seat and went to the secret compartment in his room where he kept Gorlois’s wand. He brushed aside a tapestry to reveal a stone brick wall where one of the bricks was loose. Merlin carefully removed the loose brick and drew out the wand before replacing the brick and hurrying back. He handed the thin shaft of polished wood to Salazar who picked it up and began to examine it. The moment he touched it though, Merlin could sense a kind of surprise that was entirely unexpected. Up to this point, the wizard had seemed oddly calm, cool, and collected. Now, something about the wand had caught him off guard.

“Interesting,” he remarked. “Wands of this kind _never_ change masters. They always bond with their original owner. But it seems... Why I didn’t think it would be possible but it seems that you’ve broken it. It’s spirit, that is,” Salazar clarified. “True, it’s lost much of its original potency, but I’d wager that any witch or wizard who held this wand could use it now. To do this requires immense power and strength of will.”

“I agree,” Gorlois replied. “I have always known that Merlin would become a powerful wizard some day.”

“Yes. Powerful indeed.” Now the look in Salazar’s eye was different, it was hungry, almost _greedy_.

As Salazar continued to inspect the wand Merlin asked, “If I go, can I keep in touch with people here?”

This question seemed to draw the wizard back to earth. “I’m sorry, but who would you want to keep in contact with here.”

At this Merlin could see the pressure build up in his mother further, and frankly he couldn’t blame her. Merlin was rather attached to a number of people here. Gorlois and his mother were just the start. He also knew he had to keep a promise to his friend Arthur and to himself, to keep their friendship alive. Unless he could keep in touch with Arthur while he was away at this “Hogwarts” he couldn’t do that. “Well there’s my mum for one,” he replied flatly. “And then there’s this friend of mine, Arthur, he’s the lord’s son and he’s from the gens non magica.”

Salazar’s face turned a bit sour at Merlin’s last statement. “Your mother I can understand, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be wise to correspond with the son of the lord who’s sworn to execute any of the magicked in his lands and to do so by fire. I’m afraid that I couldn’t permit it.”

That settled it, Merlin decided then and there, “Then I decline your invitation. I made a promise to my friend and I intend to keep it.”

Salazar seemed to deflate slightly at this and then, Merlin noticed, he seemed to panic slightly. At the time Merlin couldn’t tell why but it wouldn’t take long for him to discover the wizard’s ambitious and power hungry nature and when it came to power, Merlin was apparently gold on a sandy beach, the ruby in the mountain of rocks. The wizard also seemed to have a deep seated prejudice against the gens non magica. Now, Merlin had forced the two parts of his nature into conflict. After a few moments, it seemed that Salazar’s ambition won out. “I suppose we could arrange something. Nothing too conspicuous, perhaps regular owls.”

“Or,” Seraphina interrupted, apparently keen on the idea, despite the wizard’s abrasive and bigoted manner. “Or we could get him his own owl, then he could write us whenever he wanted.”

“How is it you know about?” Salazar began to ask before jerking his head toward Gorlois, “Oh, right, of course. I imagine you would have told her. A personal owl might be a bit of a problem but I shall confer with my fellow founders on the matter tonight via mirror. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

“Now we haven’t completely agreed to let him go mind you,” Seraphina spoke up as Salazar rose from his seat and began to make his way to the door.

“We just need to discuss a few things first,” Gorlois placated as he to rose more through his seat than from it.

“Of course,” Salazar replied as he walked toward the door. “Also, once I open this door, the enchantment on it will be broken so it would be advisable to speak softly on the subject from now on.” With that, he opened the door and walked out.

Once the wizard had left Merlin’s mother turned to Gorlois and asked, “So, what do you think?”

“I think,” Gorlois began, “that it would be advisable for Merlin to go with him to this school.”

“I can see why you would think that,” she replied. “But I can’t say I trust him. He seems to have deep seated dislike for non magical people and I didn’t like what I saw in him when he was looking at that wand.”

“No, nor did I, but I can’t believe that he’ll do anything to harm Merlin. If anything he’d be more likely to protect him. Furthermore, it sounds like he doesn’t have full authority when it comes to this school he’s starting. He has other people with whom he must negotiate. Now it may be the case that these people are very similar to him but only time will tell. If they allow Merlin to bring his own owl so he can correspond with us as he pleases that would be an indication that the other founders of this Hogwarts are not as prejudiced as Master Slytherin and it would allow us to ensure that Merlin is being well taken care of.”

“But what if I don’t want to go?” Merlin asked, feeling left out of the conversation.

His mother looked at him sympathetically before replying, “Merlin, I know how much you want to stay here with us and how much your friendship with Arthur means to you, but I think that this would be both a good opportunity for you and a way to keep you safe. Uther knows your secret and if something should happen to you...”

“Even the ancient magic that guards those of royal blood and my charms can’t protect you forever Merlin,” Gorlois commented. “There are always ways around even the cleverest and most powerful enchantments, one just needs the expertise and determination to find them. It used to be that the safest place for you was in this castle but now, I think you might be safer elsewhere.”

“You’ll still be able to come home during the summers,” his mother remarked trying to sooth the anxiety at the possibility of leaving home that she knew her son was feeling. “And if they let you have an owl you can write to us whenever you please.”

“And you’ll write back?” Merlin asked.

“Of course we will,” Gorlois replied. “Well, your mother will, and Arthur probably will too. I’ll just have to dictate.”

Merlin thought about it. Maybe now he’d have his chance, he could keep his friendship with Arthur _and_ learn to be a better wizard. But everything hinged on Salazar Slytherin and his cofounders agreeing to let him write home with his own owl. Finally he spoke with the same finality with which he’d promised Arthur not two days ago, “Then I’ll go to Hogwarts _if_ they let me write home.” Merlin looked into the faces of his mother and Gorlois, whom he’d come to think of as a father. In Gorlois’s face he saw a small measure of pride and relief. In his mother he saw both sadness at having to let him go and happiness that he’d be going to a safer place, even if only for part of the year.

***

The message from Salazar Slytherin telling them that Merlin could indeed have his own owl, and that apparently the other founders had found it such a brilliant idea that they’d decided to set up a kind of mail service for the whole school and allow students to bring certain kinds of animals as “familiars”, came in the form of a rat. It had scurried through a hole in the wall and Merlin’s mother had assaulted it with a broom only to find once she lifted the broom from where she’d hit it, the rat had transformed into a small piece of parchment with the message scrawled nearly illegibly in black ink.

That night, Slytherin had requested an audience with Uther and had asked that Merlin be present during it. “I wish to take on Master Ambrosius as an apprentice,” he said. “He will be well taken care of and I will teach him the ways of a ranger. He will live and work with me for the next seven years with the exception of the summer months if you allow it.”

Uther, of course, was not pleased. He had already suspected that something was amiss about the “ranger” but now that he was apparently attempting to smuggle Merlin, a young sorcerer, out of Camelot, even if only for part of the year, sent up even more red flags. “I cannot allow it,” he said flatly.

Merlin could see a degree of annoyance and anger welling up within the wizard, but he kept his cool. “My lord,” he said, apparently hating every word of what he was saying. “I beseech you to reconsider. Young Master Ambrosius has great potential and it would be foolish to keep him from--”

“My word is final,” Uther interrupted. “Now you will go _ranger_ or else I shall have you in manacles by morning.”

“Very well,” Slytherin replied, quite clearly not willing to give up the prize that he had come for. “Weapon of choice sir.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“I challenge you to a friendly duel,” he said. “Tomorrow morning at sunrise. If I win, then you agree to let Merlin come with me.”

Uther seemed intrigued, “And if I win?”

“You keep him.”

“Come now, let’s have higher stakes than that. How about if I win, I get to keep _you_ and all of your possessions.”

“Very well, I assume I can hold you to your agreement.”

“You can take me at my word,” Uther replied with a sneer.

“No,” Slytherin replied. “I don’t think I can. Swear to your god and _mean_ it.”

For a moment Uther glared at the wizard as if he suspected that maybe, this “ranger” had some sort of magic trick up his sleeve, literally. But the moment passed and Uther spoke slowly and clearly, “I swear to our Lord Jesus Christ son of God that I will allow you to take Merlinus Ambrosius with you _if_ I lose our friendly duel.” At that moment, Merlin felt a change in the room. It was as if some sort of ancient magic were being laid upon Uther. But no one else seemed to notice it so Merlin dismissed it as his imagination until he noticed that Salazar Slytherin was gripping the handle of his wand, even as it was stowed secretly up his sleeve.

“Now you,” Uther replied.

“I swear to our Lord Jesus Christ son of God that I will allow you to imprison me and seize all my belongings if I lose our friendly duel.” Again, Merlin felt the strange sensation of some ancient magic entering the room and binding the wizard. “Now you haven’t answered,” Slytherin said. “Weapon of choice sir.” Uther’s only response was a dark smile.

***

The next afternoon, Merlin was on his way down to the docks with Salazar Slytherin. Slytherin still wore what he had during the duel which wasn’t much more than he usually wore. His broadsword hung at his side as he led his horse through the streets of Camelot. Merlin was still struggling to absorb everything that had happened over the past few days, especially since the previous night. He kept replaying the duel between Uther and Slytherin in his mind. Uther had of course chosen broadswords as the weapon but the duel was not held in the arena as Merlin would have expected, but was rather held in one of the castle’s many courtyards. As spectators went, there weren’t many, but those who did attend, had been prominent. There was an assortment of advisors and other military higher ups from Camelot’s naval forces. But there were also the knights, and of course Igraine, Arthur, Merlin and his mother. Before the duel had started Arthur had asked what it was about and Merlin secretly whispered to Arthur in answer, filling him in on everything that had happened since he’d learned of his secret. Arthur had received the news with mixed feelings but Merlin assured him that they would still be friends.

When the duel commenced, Merlin had been surprised by how quick and intense it was. Uther was a decent swordsman, but his fighting style was no match for the wizard’s. Uther had been laden with heavy armor to protect against blows while Slytherin simply wore his tunic and a pair of steel gauntlets. As Uther grew more and more annoyed that he could not seem to defeat someone whom he clearly thought of as inferior, Slytherin for his part, seemed to enjoy it.

While Uther was slow and direct, Slytherin was quick and cunning. He never attacked directly and he never telegraphed his attacks. They always occurred when you least expected them. Slytherin also never struck Uther with the blade of his sword but always the flat of it, as if he was intentionally using it as more of a club to further fuel Uther’s temper. After only a ten minutes, Uther was on the ground and disarmed. He had tried to fatally wound Slytherin in a flash of rage but the wizard had expertly parried and evaded. As he’d done so, he’d stepped around Uther and gotten in close behind him and tripped him, forcing him to the ground. Uther’s sword had clattered aside and Slytherin stood over the lord, his sword point inches above the vile man’s neck. Slytherin was grinning wolfishly when he said softly but clearly, “Yield.”

For a moment Uther had hesitated, he had been bested by a strange commoner who was ostensibly from Hibernia, an island that had a stereotype among the people of Camelot for being backwards and primitive. Not only had he been bested, he’d been _humiliated_ in front of his men. Uther glanced aside to see if he could reach his sword but alas it had been too far away. He yielded. Slytherin had sheathed his sword in victory and commented quietly so that few could hear him, Merlin being one of them. “And my lord, I would remember your _sacred_ oath if I were you, _and_ , remember that your men are watching, any dishonesty on your part would only make what I estimate to be an unstable political situation even worse.”

Merlin had quickly packed his things afterward and bid his mother and Gorlois goodbye in their chambers. He’d said a quick goodbye to Belerothon as he ran through the castle on some unknown errand. Arthur had been the last to say goodbye. It had been lengthy and Slytherin had grown slightly impatient with them, especially with Arthur but eventually they finished their tearful farewell and Merlin was on his way.

Now as they neared the docks Merlin picked up his pace a little to get closer to the wizard who had now become his guardian for the duration of the journey. “Can I ask Master Slytherin,” he began quietly, taking care not to be overheard by anyone on the streets. “What you did to Uther when he made that oath the other night?”

The wizard eyed Merlin carefully as they continued down the street before responding. “How do you know that I did anything at all?”

“Well, when he swore to God,” Merlin said, “I felt something strange. And then again when you did it. And after you’d won the duel, I overheard you whisper something to Uther about his _sacred_ oath.”

Slytherin once again eyed Merlin out of the corner of his eye. “You’re quite perceptive,” he said. “And that you could _feel_ the enchantment is a further testament to your innate abilities. It’s called a ‘ _sacred oath_ ’. It’s incredibly old and powerful magic, though less powerful now than it used to be. It relies on a person’s own faith in something and uses that to bind them. In ancient times, the Greeks and Romans would swear on the Styx. In Hibernia, they used to swear by any number deities, the most popular of these being Danu and the Morrigan. The reason it’s less powerful now is that the Christian god, for many people, is not as close to earth as the old pagan ones. There are many reasons for this. Many people see God as being purely spiritual in that he cares less about physical deeds and possessions and more about the sanctity of his children’s souls. Another reason is that many people are separated from God by sacerdotalism. They rely on priests to give them god’s word in a language that, quite often, is not their own. It’s true that even pagans had their own priesthood, but then, at least, the language was their own.

“In truth, making Uther take a sacred oath was something of a gamble. I calculated that since Camelot was one of the few cities left where Latin was the common language and that he chose to supplant its former paganism with Christianity, he would be sufficiently close to the god he claimed to believe in for the oath to be binding.”

“Will I learn that kind of magic at Hogwarts?” Merlin asked.

“Well...” Slytherin began, turning his face toward the sky as if thinking or praying. “Perhaps not officially,” he finally replied. “You see, in order for the school to achieve its mission, we will have to standardize the education to some degree to make teaching large numbers of students at once efficient. But perhaps I can arrange to give you some _private_ lessons.”

Merlin thought about this for a moment. Private lessons from one of the school’s founders, someone who was clearly a powerful and practiced wizard himself, would be incredibly valuable. “I think I’d like that,” Merlin replied.

“I’m glad you thinks so,” Slytherin said with a smile. Merlin noticed that it wasn’t one of his usual cold or hungry smiles that hid some ulterior motive or contempt for another person he would have preferred not to interact with. Instead it was a warm smile, the smile of a friend, and a mentor. This caused Merlin to wonder if Salazar Slytherin had always been so prejudiced and callous. Maybe he’d been different once, nicer, more compassionate. Then Merlin wondered, if he had been different once, why had he changed?

Merlin wanted to find out but decided that it would probably be rude to ask, at least for the moment. Instead Merlin asked, “So can we get to Hogwarts by boat?”

“No, at least, not one of these boats made by the gens non magica. No, our first stop will be London where you’ll need to acquire a few things for your days at Hogwarts including, of course, your owl. Then we’ll travel over land to Hogwarts.”


	4. The Journey

# The Journey

When Slytherin had told Merlin that London was a big city, he hadn’t imagined anything close to the sight that now greeted him. He’d known beforehand that London was bigger than Camelot but the sight of its massive docks and bridges on and across the Thames with people and carts busily scurrying back and forth overwhelmed him as they sailed into the city. Even more overwhelming were the noise, crowd, and stench as they walked through the streets to their destination. The streets were littered with trash and rodents.

“Keep close to the walls,” Slytherin warned.

“Why?” Merlin asked but his answer came flying out of the window of the second story of a building mere moments later, splattering about the cobbled street. All he could say was, “Oh.” He supposed that he should have expected something of that nature. After all, even though Camelot had plumbing, it rarely ever worked anymore for most people because of the worker shortages at the city pumphouse. When he’d still been able to work in the city without arousing suspicion, he’d heard people, usually the older ones who remembered well the times before Uther, complain about having to use chamber pots and throw their waste out the window like Londoners rather than simply flushing it away.

As they trekked through the streets of the enormous city, they met several more families with whom Slytherin apparently had appointments. According to Slytherin, most of the children in the British Isles had already received their invitations, these were just the last minute invitees. As Slytherin met with each one Merlin would wait quietly and inconspicuously for them to finish their business. Unfortunately, it seemed that most of the children who were invited would not be going to Hogwarts for some reason or another. Usually is was for lack of money with which to purchase supplies and arrange for transportation. Even though Slytherin offered to provide some assistance in regards to both, it seemed that they were quite concerned about being associated with magic and wanted nothing to do with it for fear of exposure. Meanwhile, some children, not many but some, were born into entirely non-magical homes. Slytherin seemed to despise these meetings the most and put the least effort into convincing the families to send their children to the magical school. Merlin noticed that all but one of these families was entirely opposed to the whole concept of magic entirely. Slytherin would then alter their memories, albeit grudgingly, in order to prevent them from lynching their own children. When all was said and done and Merlin and Salazar were on their way to their final destination in London, only a handful of families had accepted the invitation.

“Master Slytherin,” Merlin began.

“From now on it would be appropriate to call me Professor young Master Ambrosius,” Salazar replied.

“Sorry. Professor Slytherin, why do you dislike the gens non magica?”

“Because Master Ambrosius, they are not to be trusted. You of all people should know how dangerous they can be. They seek to destroy each and every one of us all in the name of a god that they _pretend_ to understand. If they really knew Him they’d understand that he does not want them to burn other _innocent_ men simply for having abilities that they do not. Even the church, though it claims to disavow of witch burnings, is no friend of the magicked. They only disavow it because they believe that it is not possible and they still persecute us as pagans.”

“But what about magical children born from the gens non magica?” Merlin asked.

“While I have some sympathy for their plight of having been born into such unfortunate circumstances, I do not believe them to be all too trustworthy. They were born and raised by people who _hate_ magic with all their being and though they may be magicked themselves, they pose a threat to the rest of us. It’s a very difficult thing to break free of an indoctrination that says all the magicked are an evil to be destroyed, even if you discover that God has seen fit to make you one of them. That, young Master Ambrosius, is something you would do well to remember.” At his last sentence Slytherin made sure to look pointedly into Merlin’s eyes as if to further cement his point. Though Merlin could understand where the wizard was coming from, he still couldn’t bring himself to view Arthur or the gens non magica as a whole with mistrust. True, he’d seen many of them _that_ _day_ who would certainly be worthy of mistrust, but his experience had been that people, at least in Camelot, were generally accepting of magic, even if its lord wasn’t.

Suddenly Slytherin stopped. “We’re here,” he announced before ducking surreptitiously into a dark alley way. Merlin followed as quickly and inconspicuously as he could. The alley wasn’t particularly busy and it seemed to be populated with all manner of ordinary shops, with the exception that the shops were all empty and closed.

“What is this place,” Merlin asked.

“This is Nocturn Alley,” Slytherin replied. “The magical black market. It’s been specially enchanted with all manner of perception charms to keep the gens non magica from noticing it and just in case one does wander in, all the shops are ‘closed’ and carefully locked up so as to prevent unwanted entry.”

“Nocturn? Like night?” Merlin asked.

“Precisely, the wizard who named it had a thing for Latin puns.”

“Then why’s it spelled with K’s?” Merlin asked pointing up to a street sign that read “Knockturn Alley”.

“It’s not,” Slytherin replied with some mild exasperation in his voice. “It’s just that whoever planted that new street sign was an idiot. But that’s not important now, come on, we need to purchase your things.” With that the wizard led on down the street.

“So the magicked come to this place to buy things? Like things they can’t get on their own?”

“Yes, and things that they can’t get because of the prejudices of the gens non magica. If they were to be caught doing ‘unusual’ things like gathering ‘odd’ herbs in the middle of the night they’d be burned.”

They stopped in front of a shop that ostensibly sold brooms and Slytherin drew out his wand and tapped the door knob. “ _Aparecium_ ,” he incanted.

Before Merlin’s eyes, words began to appear on the wooden door, they read.

I open in flame

Golden and bright

But shrink from the smoke

Dark as the night

What am I?

“It’s a riddle,” he remarked.

“Yes,” Slytherin replied. “Most of the shop owners don’t do riddles or passwords, you just need to show your wand and the door will open for you. But Master Scipio likes to think he’s clever.” He turned back to the door and spoke clearly to it, “You are a morning glory.” The door latch clicked and the door swung slowly and silently open to reveal a shop full of shelves lined with wands of various woods, sizes, and shapes. Each wand was carefully nestled in a recess in the shelf which was accompanied by a parchment label denoting the wood, core, length, and flexibility.

As Merlin peered curiously about the room, awestruck and a little excited that he’d finally be getting his own wand a young man walked out from behind one of the shelves and spotted Slytherin. “Salazar!” he greeted suddenly and loudly, causing Merlin to jump a little. “How’d you like my new riddle?”

“It was really quite simple,” Slytherin replied. “You know those riddles don’t help you with your business at all, there’s not much demand for wands as is and you’ve got competition from that Olivander fellow who doesn’t waste his time on inventing riddles that are either so simple you might as well not have them or so complex you’ll keep people out of your shop for weeks with them.”

“Oh Salazar, you always were too serious for your own good,” Scipio admonished. He then turned to Merlin, “So who do we have here? You finally taking on an apprentice Salazar?”

“Of sorts,” Slytherin replied. “He’s been invited to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I’ve been charged with delivering him there.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still on about that damned school of your Salazar,” Scipio admonished. “Now who’s being silly.”

“Unlike you Scipio, my cofounders and I have put extreme thought and care into this venture and it is well funded and supported by twelve of the richest and most powerful wizarding families in the British Isles.”

“Ah whatever,” Scipio did not seem particularly interested in pursuing what was clearly a longtime disagreement with his friend and instead turned to Merlin. “So, come for a wand have you? What’s your name lad?”

“Merlinus,” Merlin replied. “Merlinus Ambrosius, but people just call me Merlin.”

“Well then Merlin, let’s get you measured, hold out your wand arm.” Merlin did as he was told and raised his right arm straight in front of him. With that Scipio pulled a rather lengthy wand out of his robes and flicked it seemingly aimlessly. A moment later a measuring tape shot out of nowhere and began to measure Merlin. It performed all sorts of odd measurements like measuring around his head and between his nostrils but in a matter of mere seconds, it had finished, rolled itself back up, and darted back to wherever it had come from. “Yes I see,” Scipio muttered to himself. “Well, it looks like we should look in the eleven to twelve inch section. Come along now.” Merlin and Slytherin followed Scipio as he strode off through the towers of shelves in his shop. “Let’s see here Merlin,” Scipio said. “How about acacia and kelpie hair, eleven and a half inches, slightly yielding.” Scipio drew a wand from one of his shelves and handed it to Merlin. Merlin gripped the wand for a moment before handing it back.

“It doesn’t feel right,” he said.

At this Scipio’s eyebrows shot nearly through the shop’s roof in surprise. “You seem to be quite knowledgeable about your wands for your age lad. How old are you exactly?”

“Eleven,” Merlin replied.

“Eleven,” Scipio muttered in amazement.

“Young Master Ambrosius is a young wizard of rare talent,” Slytherin remarked.

“Yes indeed. Yes indeed Salazar. Let’s try something else. How about alder and dittany stalk, twelve inches, inflexible.” He handed the wand to Merlin who once again found that it was not quite right for him. “Yes,” Scipio remarked, “I suppose so, a tad too stubborn.” Scipio went back to poking around his shelves muttering to himself. “Apple? No, I sense there’s a bit of a darker side to him, apple simply won’t do. Not ash, or beech. Definitely not blackthorn, he’s more or a trickster than a warrior. Cedar? Not quite. How about English oak.” He returned to Merlin with another wand and gave it to him.

“It’s better,” Merlin began.

“But still not quite right. Yes, yes I see... It seems that the wood’s just perfect for you but the core, length, and flexibility are all wrong...” Scipio stood pondering for a moment before his eyes seemed to light up with an idea. “I wonder...” As quickly as he had given Merlin the English oak wand he snatched it back, replaced in its nest on the shelf and strode quickly into some hidden back room. It was several moment before he came back holding a wand of English oak that was twelve inches exactly. “I made this some time ago and I consider it one of my greatest achievements,” he said, turning the wand around in his hands as if to show it off to Slytherin and Merlin. “As such, I’ve been keeping a hold on it, you know, until the right person came along for it.” He handed it to Merlin, this time without the speed and carelessness of before. He gave Merlin the wand like he was bestowing a great gift on a great king.

Merlin grasped the wand and instantly knew that it was meant to be his. “Fascinating,” Scipio remarked.

“What is it?” Slytherin asked.

“Merlin, you wouldn’t happen to be in any way related to the sidhe?” Scipio asked.

“The she?” Merlin asked confusedly.

“S I D H E, sidhe,” Scipio clarified.

At the mention of this Slytherin sighed in exasperation, “I can’t believe you actually believe in those Scipio, you’re not even Celtic, you’re Roman.”

“I’m Celtic enough,” Scipio replied looking slightly offended. “I’m surprised _you_ don’t believe in them, being from Hibernia and all.”

“That’s precisely _why_ I don’t believe in them.”

Scipio ignored him and turned back to Merlin, “The sidhe are spirits who live in earthen mounds in the old Celtic places. They’re very hard to find because they don’t normally take kindly to humans and they’re clever, powerful, and tricky. They can change size and shape as they please. But you’d best not anger them because they’ll come and take your children and replace them with all manner of things like bits of enchanted wood. Sometimes they leave their own children behind to be raised by humans. Which is why I ask if you’re related to them.”

“Um.” Merlin was at a momentary loss for words. “Okay, I guess not?”

“Hmmm. It’s interesting then that you should get a wand with a core of sidhe hair,” Scipio remarked.

Slytherin rolled his eyes. “Can we just get on with this Scipio, we do have other things to collect and I’d like to be on the road _before_ nightfall.”

“Hmm? Oh yes,” Scipio seemed to come back to his senses. “Now what’ll you be paying with?”

Merlin rummaged around in his pack in search of his money and he drew out a few silver denars which caused yet another surprised outburst from the wandmaker. “By Jove! You’re from Camelot?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied.

“How ever are you alive lad?”

Merlin was about to answer the rather awkward question as best he could but fortunately he was saved by Slytherin, “Never mind that Scipio, the fact is he’s here, he has his wand and now he’s willing and able to pay.”

Scipio didn’t seem ready to let the matter drop but Slytherin gave him a piercing glare that communicated that he was done waiting around and chatting and that he had business to attend to. “Right,” Scipio replied. “That’ll be twelve denars then.” Merlin fished out twelve of the silver coins and handed them to Scipio and he and Slytherin were on their way.

“Scipio is rather eccentric,” Slytherin remarked as they proceeded down the street. “I wouldn’t take everything he says too seriously.”

“So you don’t think these sidhe are real?” Merlin asked.

“I think Scipio has purchased a few too many magic mushrooms from the Northmen,” Slytherin replied. “Come, we’ve dallied long enough.”

They continued through their stops more quickly after that picking up books, clothes, and at one point a rather large bag made of what Salazar Slytherin called mokeskin. “It’s a magical bag,” he explained. “It’ll be good to put your things in, especially if you don’t want anyone else to get them. The skin will contract and seal itself for anyone but its owner.” Their last stop had been an animal shop. The building was filled with a wide array of animals ranging from toads and rats to cats and, of course, owls.

The selection of owls was rather small, only a handful were for sale and none of them seemed too agreeable. It seemed that they did not enjoy captivity and Merlin could hardly blame them. “Why do you keep them locked up?” he’d asked the shopkeeper.

“Are you daft boy? I keep ‘em locked up so’s they don’ go flyin ‘round the place an’ messin thins up. Now which’n you wan’?” he asked.

Merlin looked around but couldn’t see himself having any of them as a pet. As he stood there, feeling put on the spot, he was distracted by a rather large mass of fur that shot past him and up to one of the owl cages. “What was that!” he exclaimed.

“Iss tha’ damn kneazle!” the shopkeeper yelled as he drew his wand and tried to use it to get the kneazle down from the cage.

“Kneazle?” Merlin asked.

“It’s like a larger, more intelligent, longer lived, and far less agreeable kind of cat,” Slytherin explained as he lowered his forehead into his palm, clearly ready to be out of London and on the road to Hogwarts and exasperated that they were to be once again held up by a disagreeable shopkeeper.

Merlin turned back to the scene that was playing out before him. The shopkeeper was still trying, without any success, to get his kneazle down. The kneazle, meanwhile, made no noise and was expertly avoiding the wizard’s poorly aimed spells all while fiddling with the latch on the cage it was presently perched on. A few more moments and the cage door was open releasing a long-eared owl into the shop. Rather than “flyin ‘round the place an’ messin thins up”, however, the owl flew straight to Merlin and perched on his shoulder. As it leaned over to nibble his ear affectionately the kneazle jumped down from the cage and landed next to Merlin and the owl. Merlin noticed that the two seemed to be conversing though about what he couldn’t tell.

“Righ’ thas it!” the shopkeeper shouted. “I’ve had it wit tha’ owl!” He aimed his wand at the owl on Merlin’s shoulder and shouted, “ _Avada --_ ” Before he could finish his curse though, Slytherin had closed the distance between them and the shopkeeper and physically knocked the wand out of his hand while pointing his own at the man’s throat.

“Considering your aim old man, I’d think twice about casting such dangerous spells in the general vicinity of other people, especially when one of those people happens to be one of my charges,” he hissed harshly into the shopkeeper’s ear. “Now I understand your frustration, but let’s do try to keep our... _heads_ about us, shall we?” The shopkeeper didn’t reply.

Once he seemed satisfied that the shopkeeper had been subdued, Slytherin released him and stowed his wand away. He turned back to Merlin and asked, “Have you decided on your owl yet? We do have a long journey ahead of us yet and we’re already behind schedule.”

Merlin turned his head to look at the owl on his shoulder and the kneazle next to them. The kneazle seemed to nod at him as if to say “Why else do you think I let him out?”

“Yeah,” Merlin replied. “I’ll take this one.”

“That’ns not but trouble,” the shopkeeper said, apparently finding his voice again as he scrambled in search of his wand. “Ye’ll only regret you ever got ‘im.”

“Then it should be no trouble for you to part with him,” Slytherin replied coolly. For a moment the shopkeeper didn’t reply but apparently decided that he’d be better off selling the owl than trying to kill it again.

“Alrigh’ jus’ don’ be askin for yer money back. Now you say you got denars? That’ll be fifteen.” Merlin paid and left with Slytherin and his new owl in a hurry.

“That was eventful,” Merlin remarked as they finally made their way out of London on foot, with most of their things carried by Slytherin’s horse.

“ _That_ ,” Slytherin began, “is an understatement. Nocturn Alley has really gone downhill. It used to be a rather nice place with decent shop owners and good businesses, but like so much else these days, it’s turned to rot. The few decent people left are either old or touched in the head so they won’t be around long. Eventually it’ll just be the lowlife.”

“How’d it get that way?” Merlin asked.

“How did anything get that way?” Slytherin returned. “Because people let it...”

The journey north took many days and for the most part, Merlin and Slytherin stuck to themselves, camping by the side of the road when night fell and getting up well before dawn to resume their trek. One night, Merlin awoke to the sound of hissing. It was soft and low, like a snake but not an angry one. It sounded strange, more like a lament. Merlin adjusted himself to try and find the source of the sound. To his surprise, the sound came from Slytherin. At first Merlin couldn’t figure out what he was doing. He was hunched over and seemed to be holding something gently in his hands. As Merlin’s eyes adjusted he could make out an open locket in the wizard’s hands. He seemed to be speaking to it in that strange hissing language of his. Merlin wanted to ask about it but decided it would be best to let the issue be for the time being.

On the night before they reached the school, Merlin noticed the locket again as they were making camp. The gold case that dangled from Slytherin’s neck was oval shaped and had a beautiful simplicity about it. Inlaid in the locked was a serpentine S of tiny emeralds. Merlin stayed up that night, until Slytherin opened the locket, again hissing to it in that strange language of his. Merlin was much closer this time and saw that the locket contained a small but very skillful drawing of a beautiful young woman in the dying firelight. Merlin got the sense that she was someone who was very close to the wizard but that she was no longer in his life for some reason. Merlin couldn’t hold himself back this time, “Professor,” he said as softly as possible so as not to startle Slytherin.

“Yes?” the wizard returned without removing his gaze from the picture in the locket.

“Who was she?” Merlin asked.

Slytherin was silent for several moments and Merlin became afraid that he’d said the wrong thing and that maybe Slytherin would attack him as he’d done the shopkeeper in London or Uther in Camelot. Then Slytherin spoke again. His voice was calm, like a parent telling a child a bedtime story, but it was also sad and full of heartache. “She was my beloved,” he said. “We were married, for a time, and quite happily so. She was the sunshine in every one of my days. We had a son too, he was a beautiful baby boy...

“Then.” Slytherin’s voice broke somewhat before he reasserted his usual control. “Then, she died. No, not died. That’s not right. That would be an _injustice_ to her. She was _murdered_. They broke into our home, a mob of the gens non magica. We did what we could to fend them off but they eventually dragged both of us from our home, and kidnapped our boy. They tied us up to burn us. Normally, for skilled witches and wizards, the stake isn’t a big problem, we put on a good show, and then we vanish and let them think we were burned alive. But it was too late for her. During the break in, she’d been clubbed over the head by a farmer’s hoe. She was dead before they put the first bonds around her wrists. That was five years ago today...”

“What happened to your son?” Merlin asked.

“Who knows. Raised by the gens non magica most likely. They don’t seem to understand that magic is hereditary, for the most part. They think we’re communing with Satan so naturally, it wouldn’t make sense to them that the child of a witch and wizard should himself become a wizard.

“In hindsight, I should have looked for him in the crowd, tried all the harder to fight them and find him. But I fled in a moment of anguish and pure _cowardice_.” The last word he spat with such anger that Merlin could have sworn the fire flickered with a kind of infernal life for a brief moment.

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. Eventually Slytherin said, “You should go to sleep, we’ll be arriving at Hogwarts tomorrow.”

The next day was rather awkward for Merlin. He couldn’t help but think back to the sadness, anger, and, though Slytherin probably wouldn’t admit it consciously, self loathing, he’d heard in the man’s voice the night before. Slytherin, however, continued as if nothing had happened. His cold, hard, calculating exterior had returned and he was as determined as ever to conceal the gaping emotional wound that he was with it.

They reached the school just as night was falling and as soon as Merlin saw it he couldn’t help but comment, “That’s one enormous castle.” In fact it was. Even though it was clearly not finished yet, it rivaled the lord’s castle in Camelot. Off to the side, Merlin could make out a boathouse under construction on the enormous lake and a bridge across a wide chasm that bordered a dark eerie forest. The enormous castle was complemented by equally enormous grounds which were bordered by the lake, forest, and a rather large wall with a wrought iron gate guarded on either side by enchanted gargoyles. Merlin spotted a cluster of what looked like greenhouses halfway up the gradual slope of the hill on which the castle had been built. Further down and closer to the wall was what looked like a barn and a series of corrals and stables.

“When it’s finished it will be able to house over a thousand people at once in addition to having room for all the classrooms, the library, and all manner of other things that one would need for a venture of this kind.” As they drew closer and closer to the front doors the tops of the towers disappeared from view and Merlin found himself in the shadow of what appeared to be the main hall of the castle. There were a number of other children, most of whom were about Merlin’s age some of whom looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, gathered in the antechamber on the other side of the open doors. They were all dressed in black tunics and capes much like the ones Merlin had bought in Nocturn alley and was now wearing. “This is where I leave you young Master Ambrosius,” Slytherin said. “I have other matters to attend to before the sorting ceremony, you needn’t worry about your things, you will find them in your dormitory after dinner.”

Merlin meant to ask what the wizard had meant by “sorting” but before he could Slytherin had disappeared along with his horse and Merlin’s things. Only Merlin’s owl remained with him. Merlin turned to look at the owl, whom he’d named Archimedes, much to Slytherin’s disapproval. “I suppose you can go now if you want, Professor Slytherin said they’d built an owelry for you.”

Archimedes hooted once. “Well not just for you, there’ll probably be others too,” Merlin replied.

Archimedes cocked his head at Merlin and then hooted twice more before flying off in search of the owelry. Merlin turned back to the crowd of students before him and suddenly felt apprehensive. “I’m not ready for this,” he said to himself. “What are you saying,” he scolded himself almost immediately afterward. “You had no trouble befriending Arthur and he’s non magic and the lord’s son, this should be easy.” Still, he hesitated before forcing himself to plunge into the mass of people.

He was surprised by the fact that it was easier to make friends than he thought it would be. Almost as soon as he’d joined the crowd he’d been met by a rather jovial and somewhat pudgy boy his age. The boy was shortish with light brown hair and brown eyes. “Hi, my name’s Luke,” he said when he approached Merlin, grinning broadly. “Luke Pantaleon,” he said.

“Um, hi,” Merlin replied, his face going somewhat red with embarrassment. “I’m Merlinus, Merlinus Ambrosius.” Then he quickly added, “But most people just call me Merlin.”

“So where’re you from Merlin?” Luke asked still grinning as if being there was the greatest thing in the world.

“Camelot,” Merlin replied somewhat hesitantly. He’d already seen the reactions of the Londoners when they heard where he was from and he was not eager to repeat the experience with all its associated awkward questions and outbursts. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like Luke was going to be one of those people.

“Wow,” he said. “You’re one lucky bloke then aren’t you. I hear Uther Pendragon actually made it law to kill magic folk.”

Merlin, thankful that Luke had not burst out loudly and put him on the spot, began to ease up a bit. Perhaps this whole Hogwarts business wasn’t going to be so bad. “Yeah,” Merlin replied with a nervous chuckle. “Well you heard right.”

“I’m from Canterbury,” Luke said. “It’s no picnic being magic there, the muggles are always on the lookout for ‘witches’ but there’s no _laws_ against magic.”

At that moment they were interrupted by a girl with long dark hair, “ _That’s_ because the people in charge, id est the church, don’t _believe_ in witches.”

Had Merlin not been so confused by the alien term and by the sudden appearance of the girl who seemed to carry herself with a kind of pride and haughtiness that he found off putting, he would have been annoyed. As it was he merely looked at her confusedly. Luke, however greeted her as if he’d already met her. “Oh hi Helena,” he said, as good naturedly as ever. “This is Merlin, he’s from Camelot.”

“Are you really?” she said, eyeing him skeptically. “I thought that all the gens magica were executed in Lord Uther’s purges.”

“Well, not all of us,” Merlin replied. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Helena,” she replied. “Helena Ravenclaw. My mother is one of the school founders.”

“Oh.” Merlin replied. “I suppose that must be nice having your parents around. I suppose it’d keep you from getting too homesick.”

Helena looked like she was going to contradict Merlin when the doors that led from the antechamber to the main hall swung open loudly, drawing the attention of all the chattering students. Standing in the doorway was a rather tall muscular man with green eyes and a mane of red hair that made him look rather like a lion. He wore an ornate red tunic embroidered with gold. A sword with a silver handle inlaid with rubies hung sheathed at his side and on his head he wore a somewhat worn looking brown pointed hat.

His mere presence was intimidating enough to silence and hold the attention of the gaggle of incoming students. His intense gaze compounded the effect. At first Merlin thought they were in some kind of trouble. That they had been too noisy and interrupted some important meeting that had been going on on the other side of the massive oak doors and that this man had been sent out to deal with them. Then, however, the man smiled. It was a warm, welcoming smile that clashed so completely with everything else about the man that Merlin had difficulty wrapping his mind around what he could only perceive as a walking contradiction.

“Welcome,” the man boomed, his roaring voice only causing him to bear an even more striking resemblance to a lion. “Welcome students, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and may I be the first to congratulate you on being the first to attend what will undoubtedly become a world renowned establishment for the education of young sorcerers in a very short time. Now, when we enter the Great Hall, before you take your seats and begin the start of term feast, you will be sorted into your houses. Your house will be a kind of close knit group the purpose of which is to assist you both in your studies and in forging those friendships that are so crucial to your futures as adult witches and wizards. You will take classes with the rest of your house, sleep in the same dormitories, and will be supervised and assisted by the professor who is the head of your house, one of us the four founders Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, and myself Godric Griffindor.

“In the spirit of friendly competition between the houses, we have introduced a point system. Your successes will earn your house points and misbehavior will lose your house points. At the end of the year the house with the greatest number of points will be awarded the house cup.

“Now if you’ll follow me, we can begin the ceremony.” Griffindor finished before turning around and taking such enormous strides down the center of the Great Hall that the students had to run to keep up with him.

Before Merlin could start following the crowd, Helena whispered in his ear, “You’ll have to explain to me how it is you survived if you’re from Camelot because I must say, I don’t believe you.” If Merlin didn’t have enough reason to find the girl annoying and troublesome before, she was now effectively calling him a liar. Before Merlin could rebut, however, she whisked herself away after the rest of the students who were filing into the hall. Merlin decided that he should probably get a move on and follow. As Merlin’s shoes clacked against the flagstone floors, he gazed around in wonder at the Great Hall that surrounded him. The walls were lined with iron braziers casting the warm glow of firelight about the chamber. Enormous windows reaching nearly from the floor to the ceiling were spaced equally apart with such mathematical precision Merlin decided that not even Roman engineers could have done better. In addition to the braziers, lit candles floated far above the long oak tables that filled the Great Hall. Magnificent banners hung from the ceiling. There were five kinds. Four of the five bore a different animal and was marked with a name of one of the founders. Griffindor’s banner was red and gold, much like his attire, and, unsurprisingly, bore a lion. Ravenclaw’s banner bore a bronze eagle against a backdrop of deep blue. Hufflepuff’s, a black badger against a backdrop of gold. Slytherin’s, Merlin saw, bore a silver serpent against a backdrop of emerald green.

The four banners, Merlin guessed, were the crests of each founder while the fifth banner, was the crest of the whole school. It was a combination of the four founders’ crests with each crest occupying a corner of the greater whole. On the Hogwarts banner read the Latin phrase “Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus” which prompted Merlin to have to suppress a giggle.

Most magnificent of all, however, was the ceiling, or apparent lack thereof. Above them, where there should have been stone-brick and mortar forming an enormous sloping roof, was open sky, or so it appeared. While other students gazed up at the sky in awe wondering how they could have missed the fact that the Great Hall had no roof, Merlin gazed up in awe of the skill and power it took to create an enchantment so perfect it would cause the sky to appear through feet of solid stone. He could _feel_ the magic coming off the grand illusion and couldn’t help but think to himself that the Hogwarts founders were truly the greatest sorcerers of the age. Even Gorlois would have had to accede that their talents and skills far exceeded his own when he was alive and well.

Merlin looked down from the ceiling just in time to notice that the mass of children had stopped moving and prevent himself from running into the person in front of him. Merlin peered around the students in front of him trying to get a better look at Professor Griffindor and whatever it was he was standing next to as he faced the throng. “Now,” Griffindor boomed. “I will call you up one by one, last names first, and you will take a seat and be sorted.” Griffindor then took off his hat which Merlin now noticed had a small tear in it and seemed to set it down on a kind of table or chair that was outside his line of sight. Griffindor then drew his wand and flicked it, summoning a roll of parchment with text scrawled on it. Merlin could only guess that the parchment bore the names of the students who were about to be sorted. As Griffindor squinted at the names trying to read them, Merlin noticed three other people standing near him, one of whom Merlin recognized as Professor Slytherin. Next to Slytherin stood a woman with dark hair and a deep blue dress. He wore a silver diadem inlaid with sapphires and a haughty expression that reminded Merlin of the girl he’d just met. He could only guess that this was her mother, Professor Ravenclaw. Next to Ravenclaw stood a much shorter woman with light hair and a kindly face. She wore a simple gold colored dress and was positively glowing at the new arrivals.

After several minutes of waiting for Professor Griffindor to read off the first name, Professor Ravenclaw grew impatient. “Oh Godric, this is why you should wear those spectacles I made you.”

“I can read just fine,” Professor Griffindor protested.

“Of course you can,” Ravenclaw replied as she walked up and snatched the list from the large wizard. “But only when you wear those spectacles which I invented for precisely this reason.” Ravenclaw then turned from a somewhat sheepish looking Griffindor to the list she had taken from him. Merlin was surprised that the seemingly formidable wizard could be cowed so easily and by a woman as slightly built as Ravenclaw. He didn’t have much time to be surprised though because at that moment, Professor Ravenclaw read off the first name. “Ambrosius, Merlinus!” she called loudly and clearly.

Merlin gulped instinctively before realizing that it might have been an audible one and sincerely hoping that it hadn’t been. He carefully weaved his way to the front of the mass of students, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. Was he nervous about this “sorting” and how they were going to do it? A bit, but it wasn’t the bad kind of nervous that he couldn’t handle. What really got him was that he was going to meet a woman who had successfully intimidated the most intimidating wizard Merlin had ever met and he wasn’t really too keen on finding out _why_ she was so intimidating.

When he got to the front of the gathering of students, he saw Griffindor’s had sitting on a low wooden stool that was so plain, worn, and simple that it clashed with the grandeur of the Great Hall almost as much as Griffindor’s smile had with his lion like appearance. Professor Griffindor then picked up his hat and motioned for Merlin to take a seat on the stool. He did as he was instructed and the hat was promptly placed on his head, covering his eyes.

Merlin suddenly heard a voice in his head. “Well, well, well. It seems we have our first students. I’ve been waiting for this you know. After all, it’s what I was made for.” Merlin guessed that the hat had been enchanted and that it was the hat that was speaking to him.

“Now let’s see what’s inside you eh... Interesting, there’s quite a lot to look at here. It shall be quite difficult to place you, quite difficult indeed. There’s bravery and nerve, courage and daring, traits favored by Master Griffindor...

“But there’s also intelligence, wit, creativity, individuality, and a wisdom beyond your years. You’re quite accepting of new ideas and other people who may think differently from you though you’d gladly try to change their minds with your own. You’d do equally well with Mistress Ravenclaw.

“Or even with Mistress Hufflepuff who favors dedication, hard work, kindness, and tolerance. Though perhaps you do not fit with her as well as I initially thought. Though you are unafraid of toil, you prefer to use your wit and skill to complete a task if possible rather than to simply work your way through it. You often favor the easy way out and your patience, though perhaps more extensive than in some, still leaves something to be desired. Still, I sense a deep sense of loyalty. To one person in particular...

“Interesting, though...” The hat was silent for another few minutes and Merlin could hear the people around him getting somewhat restless. He even heard Slytherin say to Griffindor, “I thought you said that this would be quick Godric.”

“Maybe it’s broken,” Ravenclaw suggested.

“Just give the hat some time,” Hufflepuff replied kindly. “From the moment I saw the boy I thought I could detect a kind of complexity about him. The hat just needs a tad more time to figure him out is all.”

“What’s interesting,” Merlin finally said to the hat though he didn’t speak the words so much as think them.

The hat, for its part, did not seem at all surprised that its doorway into his mind was a two way street. “You have traits favored by all the founders and your loyalty to this ‘Arthur’ is incredibly strong... But you are conflicted. As much as you want to keep your promise to him out of the goodness of your heart, there is also a kind of ambition and determination that tempts you to use your friendship for your own gain. Perhaps, Slytherin would best suit you. Yes, you are resourceful and cunning as well as clever. I also detect that you have grown something of a bond with Master Slytherin since his visit to your home.

“I must say though young Master Ambrosius,” the hat said. “I am finding it difficult to place you, perhaps if you would show a preference...”

Merlin realized that the hat was asking him to choose his house. By now Merlin had deduced that the hat had been created to place students in houses and now, on its first student, it had apparently abdicated that role and placed the responsibility for selecting a house squarely on Merlin. Merlin secretly wondered if maybe the hat _was_ broken, but then dismissed the thought when he considered that there were loads of other students left to be sorted and they couldn’t stay there all night because Merlin thought there was something wrong with the hat. So Merlin decided, “I’ll go with Professor Slytherin,” he thought to the hat.

“Very well then,” the hat said in his mind again. Suddenly the hat cried out loud to the entire hall through the small rip in it “Slytherin!” The hat was then immediately removed from Merlin’s head who gazed around him at the clapping students and professors. As he stood up and proceeded to the table that sat under the emerald green banners he glanced at Professor Slytherin who smiled and nodded approvingly. Once again, Merlin thought he noticed a look of greed in his eyes, but it vanished as soon as he’d seen it.

The sorting continued much more quickly after that with most students taking under two minutes and a few taking close to five, but all less than the six minutes it had taken for Merlin. Slowly but surely the tables began to fill up. For the first time, Merlin noticed that as each of the students was sorted, Professor Hufflepuff seemed to aim her wand at them and their attire would change color such that the hems of their tunics became the color of their house along with the inner linings of their capes.

Eventually, all the students were sorted and the Great Hall was buzzing with the chatter of excited children again. Once the stool had been taken away and the hat placed squarely back on Griffindor’s head, the founders called for the attention of the students and made some opening remarks regarding the school, its rules, and other important information. Merlin didn’t really pay much attention to it except for the part about following their heads of house to their dorms after the feast. Once the founders had taken their seats, the feast began and the chatter resumed.

Merlin was awed by both the abundance and variety of food that lay before him. Much of the food was unfamiliar to him. He guessed that this was because it was more common among the people of the other British Isles while in Camelot much of the diet still resembled that of the Ancient Romans. Across from him sat a rather pale young boy with eyes that were as dark as his hair. The boy appeared to be rather surly, and Merlin decided that he ought to try to do for him what Luke, who’d been sorted into Hufflepuff, had done for him. “Hi,” Merlin greeted. “I’m Merlin. What’s your name?” The boy merely glared at Merlin and started violently buttering a roll. Merlin decided he’d give it another try. “I take it you’re not too keen on being here.” Still not reply. “You know, it’ll probably help if you try to make some friends.”

The boy looked at Merlin suspiciously but his expression had softened somewhat. He finally said, “My parents sent me away because they didn’t want to deal with me. They’ve always done that, kept me away from them and out of sight. At least in the past I got to stay home with a private tutor. But now they send me off here all so they can save a few gold pieces a year on his services.”

Merlin could detect a deep seated bitterness in his voice and understood that this boy didn’t have a good relationship with his parents something that Merlin couldn’t really relate to personally but understood well enough through his friend Arthur. “You know, just because your parents sent you here to get you away from them doesn’t mean you can’t make the most of it,” Merlin offered.

“I suppose you’re right,” the boy admitted grudgingly. “I’m Charles by the way, Charles Baldwin.”

Merlin was happy to see that Charles was opening up. “So where are you from Charles?” Merlin asked.

“The south of England, you probably wouldn’t know it. It’s a tiny place but it’s far away from muggles.”

There was the word again, “muggle”. Merlin decided to ask about it, “I’m sorry, but what’s a muggle?”

Charles gave him a look like he was some kind of idiot before replying, “A muggle’s a non-magic person.”

“Oh,” Merlin replied. “Sorry, it’s just that we call them something different where I’m from.”

“And what’s that?” Charles asked.

“Gens non magica.”

“Sounds like a mouthful,” Charles replied around his own mouthful of dinner roll.

“I suppose it is a bit,” Merlin replied thoughtfully. “But ‘muggle’ just sounds so... Well it just doesn’t sound quite right you know?”

“No, I don’t know, but whatever you say Merlin,” Charles replied. “So where’re you from?”

“Camelot,” Merlin replied.

Charles didn’t seem to notice that Merlin had just said he was from one of the most dangerous places for the gens magica in the whole of the British Isles but Merlin wasn’t about to complain. Charles merely asked, “What’s it like there?”

The rest of the night, Merlin and Charles continued to talk about where they were from, what they liked to do, and what they expected life to be like at Hogwarts. Eventually, the feast ended and Professor Slytherin led everyone from his house out of the hall and down a rather large flight of stairs to a hidden chamber that required a password to enter. The chamber was the Slytherin common room which branched off into several dormitories for both boys and girls, who were expected to stay out of each other’s rooms. The common room was dimly lit with furnishings colored emerald and silver, the colors of Salazar Slytherin. There was a fireplace off to one side. The fireplace as well as the furniture was decorated with carved serpents. Occupying one wall was a thick glass window beyond which was dark, murky water. This told Merlin that their rooms were under the lake he’d seen on the way in.

As soon as Slytherin had explained the ins and outs of the dormitories, told them the rules, and informed them of when classes would start and when they’d get their schedules, the students filed off to their respective dormitories. Their rooms were separated by age with about five or six of them to a room. Merlin found that, as Slytherin had told him, his things had already been taken care of and left next to one of the beds in the Slytherin dormitory. He had been assigned a room with Charles and three other boys who all seemed quite excited to be there but at the same time exhausted from their apparently lengthy journeys. Merlin decided that he’d get to know them better in the morning when he too was better rested.

Merlin changed into his pajamas and was about ready to collapse into the bed that awaited him when he realized that he really needed to use the bathroom. “Um, Charles,” he said tentatively.

“What Merlin,” Charles mumbled through his pillow, apparently not yet asleep but well on his way.

“Where are the toilets?”

“Toilets?” Charles asked. “Oh, those weird pots with running water you use in Camelot? I don’t think they have any here.”

“What?” For all the grandeur of the place and all the effort and skill that seemed to have gone into building it, he could not believe that even this place would, like so much of Europe after the fall of Rome, lack plumbing. “Where am I supposed to, you know...”

“Check under your bed,” Charles mumbled. “There ought to be a chamberpot.” Sure enough, there was a chamberpot, but Merlin was reluctant to use it. He was so used to doing this sort of thing in private and then flushing it away. Still, it appeared that he had little choice. When Merlin was finished, before he went to bed, he said to himself, “Well, I suppose they can’t have everything can they.” With that, Merlin fell asleep.

It was a fitful sleep with a dream that Merlin could barely remember when morning came, but as he was dreaming it, it was as vivid as reality itself, if rather disjointed and confusing. In the dream, Merlin stood in the ruins of a mighty castle. It was black as night and beneath his feet, the ground trembled. Before him was a woman dressed in black robes and whose face was hard with anger. In one hand she held a sword and the other a wand. “Alas Emrys!” she cried, her voice echoing eerily throughout the dream as if in through an expansive cavern. “Witness that which you have fought so long come to pass! Your efforts have been in vain!” With that she stabbed the ground and cast some spell unknown to Merlin into the earth through it. The ground beneath Merlin cracked and fell away to reveal an gaping chasm apparently without bottom. Suddenly two dragons, one white and one red flew to the surface and began to fight with flame and tooth and claw. As the battle raged, Merlin could perceive flashes of other events, other battles. Great clashes between men, some wearing the colors and bearing the banners of Camelot. He saw great rivers of blood and a flash of green light so bright it could have encompassed the whole of Camelot.

In that moment, the battle between the dragons finished and the red dragon flew off into the darkness, defeated. Merlin then turned to the woman who had released the dragons but she had gone and in her place stood a girl probably four years older than he. Merlin didn’t know why, but he felt rage and terror and a strange desire to kill this girl, no the woman. But where was the woman? In his anger he searched for his wand but he suddenly felt a gentle hand caress his shoulder and whisper in his ear. “Not yet my dearest grandchild. You know not the meaning of this yet but one day you shall. And when you discover its meaning, fear not, for it will not be the end but rather a new beginning.” With that the dream ended and Merlin awoke and greeted the coming day, remembering little of the previous night’s dream only that whatever it had been, it had denied him the restful sleep he had been looking forward to since he left his home for the school.


	5. The School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m not sure how I feel about this chapter. Frankly I think it’s kind of meh but I’m not really sure what to do with it. This part of the story isn’t really one that I really wanted to focus on in the overall plot so I think it probably seems a bit rushed. Regardless, let me know what you guys think.

# The School

Merlin’s first years at Hogwarts were mostly uneventful though by no means dull. He found a number of the classes to be fairly basic. Charms was one of these classes. It wasn’t just that he’d already been introduced to such magic by Gorlois but rather, he picked up the subject rather quickly. Within minutes of the introduction of new content Merlin would master it and find himself helping the other Slytherins, much to Professor Ravenclaw’s surprise and approval. Merlin discovered that Professor Ravenclaw, though certainly intimidating, was rather an agreeable person. While harsh and terrifying in her reprimands, she was equally rewarding of intelligence and ability.

Transfiguration was an equally facile subject for Merlin whose skill rivaled Professor Gryffindor's. Of course the fact that the large professor had difficulty seeing without his much dreaded spectacles probably had something to do with that. When it came to potions and history, however, Merlin found that he actually had to devote some effort to his studies. For history this was no problem as he was deeply interested in the subject, an interest that had been instilled in him by Gorlois. Despite protests from some of the other students, the professor insisted on teaching both magical and non-magical history together as it “promoted greater understanding of the history that has been shared between the two genera until the present day.” Merlin, of course, didn’t mind and quite agreed.

The classes that Merlin struggled most with were their defense classes taught at various times by Professors Slytherin and Gryffindor. Though Merlin desperately wanted to succeed when it came to martial magic, he found it overall difficult to master the rather direct attack and defense spells that the professors taught. As if the classes weren’t difficult enough, in addition to martial magic, the professors also taught swordsmanship, a skill that was even more difficult to master. Fortunately, Merlin had some help with both from Charles who was a natural. Some nights they’d study the various spells in the Slytherin common room while others they’d sneak out onto the grounds and spar. Even with Charles’s help, Merlin struggled to perform well in the in class duels. One night, when they were practicing, Merlin caught a repulsion jinx square in the chest sending him back several feet where he landed hard on his back. “It’s no use,” he said defeatedly as Charles walked up to stand next to him.

“You’re right,” Charles replied flatly. “I doubt you’ll ever get this battle magic stuff down. You’ve got the technique and everything, but your heart’s just not in it.”

“So I suppose I should just give up and let my grades take the hit.”

“No. You just need to change your tactics. You’re trying to duel the way everyone else duels. Directly and by brute force. You need to have your own way of dueling.”

“How do you suppose I do that?”

“I don’t know really. That’s kind of up to you I guess. Just think about what you’re best at and use that to your advantage.” Charles stood and thought for a moment before speaking again, “What if you could use charms in a duel? I mean you’re better than everyone else at charms and your insanely smart and clever. Maybe you could, you know, win by charms and trickery.” A grin broke out across Charles’s face prompting Merlin to roll his eyes.

“Your puns are still terrible,” Merlin replied as he lifted himself off the ground. “But I think you might be onto something. I’ll see what I can manage the next time there’s a class duel but for now we should head back inside before we get caught out after hours.”

It took him several tries, but eventually he figured out a way to quickly win a wand duel without any of the direct magic they’d been taught in class. He’d been paired in a class wand duel with Helena, something that made him somewhat anxious as she was as intimidating as her mother when it came to dueling. He’d been beaten by her several times before and was not eager to repeat the experience. However, he realized that it was all the better that he try out his new tricks against one of the most accomplished duelists in his year. As soon as they began, Helena unleashed a series of furious attacks against Merlin in accordance with her rather aggressive dueling style. Merlin, rather than standing his ground and trying to block her spells and return fire chose to evade and maneuver around her attacks. In doing so he successfully avoided virtually all of her spells and was able to block the remaining ones. Merlin chose to hold back his pièce de résistance for the time being, however. He wanted to make sure Professor Slytherin was watching when he pulled it off. Unfortunately, it seemed he would never look his direction. The professor was busy assisting other students and Merlin didn’t know how long he could keep up the avoidance tactic.

Finally, the Professor glanced in their direction and Merlin saw his chance. As quickly as he could, in between strikes from Helena, Merlin lashed out with his own wand and rapidly incanted, “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” In an instant Helena’s wand flew from her hand in Professor Slytherin’s direction. The professor caught it deftly and stared amazedly at the wand in his hand. Helena, was equally amazed, and somewhat miffed that she’d effectively been beaten. When the professor looked up from the wand in his hand he did so with a smile of approval. “Very clever Merlin, very clever, and quite creative if I do say so myself. A charm for _disarming_ your opponent. I think that warrants fifty points, don’t you?” Of course, once Merlin had shown his hand, everyone knew what his tactics were so he had to continue to work to maintain the element of

Merlin’s private lessons with Professor Slytherin began a couple of months into his first year. “Now, you mustn't speak of this to anyone,” Professor Slytherin instructed as he led Merlin from the common room late one night. “The other founders I think, would not approve.” The chamber where he received his special instruction was dark and cavernous and clearly unfinished. Slytherin called it his “chamber of secrets” for he apparently kept a good deal more from his fellow founders than simply that he was giving Merlin private instruction. Littered about the unfinished chamber were various books and oddities. Magical objects of unknown but clearly sinister origins lay nestled in crates. Though Merlin enjoyed the lessons, especially the ones on the more complex charms and enchantments which were often accompanied by enthralling histories of who used them and why, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the professor was grooming him for some deeper purpose, that he had some ulterior motive for teaching Merlin in private. Merlin could sense that Professor Slytherin’s reasons for keeping his chamber of secrets from the other founders were not innocent though the professor claimed otherwise.

Once he asked the professor why it had to be secret if what was going on was such a good thing. Slytherin had merely replied, “The other founders do not understand the value of the quote unquote _dark_ arts. They think that such things are wholly evil and yet, as intelligent as they are, they fail to give objective definitions for either.” This didn’t really answer Merlin’s question but he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. Instead he kept quiet and continued his lessons. With each passing year though, he grew more suspicious of his tutor and tension began to grow between them.

When Merlin wasn’t engaged in study or practice of some kind, he spent time with Charles and his other friends. Though the other Slytherins were quite welcoming of Merlin, he found that he didn’t quite enjoy their company. Instead he preferred the company of Luke and Helena. Merlin found that Helena had kind of grown on him. Though she was still unbelievably arrogant and a bit of a know it all, she was easy to be around. Quite often the four of them would get into some mischief or another that would drive Helena up the wall but she never hesitated to accompany them on their little misadventures.

As much as he enjoyed his time at the school, Merlin always looked forward to returning home for the summers. True, the letters he sent out with Archimedes helped but he was always glad when finals ended and he was able to make his journey back to Camelot to see Gorlois, his mother, and of course his best friend. Whenever he went home, Merlin would share as much about the magical world, and often the non magical one as well with Arthur as he could. Before his first year at Hogwarts ended, Merlin had cast duplication charms on several of the books in the library and taken them home with him.

“What’s in these books?” Arthur asked the first time Merlin returned as they snuck out into one of the courtyards late at night.

“All sorts. Not much in the way of magic but loads of history. There’s even a book on the military history of Rome. I figured that since you’ll be lord of Camelot someday you ought to know a thing or two about how to defend the place. After all, it’s not like Galfridus is teaching you anything.”

“No, he really isn’t,” Arthur agreed. “It’s not his fault though. Father doesn’t want me learning too much about that kind of thing. He thinks I’ll start challenging his authority if I do.”

“That’s because he knows he’s been doing a terrible job of protecting the city.”

It was on those warm summer nights when the ocean breeze of the Atlantic blew over the castle that Merlin and Arthur would sneak out and study the old volumes, among other things. Merlin would tell Arthur of his experiences at Hogwarts and Arthur would tell Merlin of the goings on while he’d been away. When Merlin learned that Uther had been denying Arthur’s request to learn sword combat, Merlin took it upon himself to at least try to teach him. Of course Merlin wasn’t very successful owing to his own paltry swordsmanship. Merlin suggested that maybe Arthur should try and find one of the knights who’d be willing to teach him in secret. Arthur thought about it but decided that it probably wouldn’t fly and that Uther would find out eventually.

To keep their late night meetings secret, Merlin would draw on his knowledge of charms from his formal and private lessons and from the various notes he’d taken from books in the Hogwarts library. Each year he got better at concealment and other charms including ones to trick any nosy guards or spies sent by Uther to monitor them. Merlin became so good at charms by his fourth year that he earned the epithet “Prince of Charms” at Hogwarts, something that even Arthur began to call him. Merlin, though secretly pleased with the title, tried not to show his satisfaction at being recognized for his abilities, especially to Arthur who seemed to call Merlin that as a way of teasing him. Merlin would thus tease back and call his friend “King Arthur”.

The during his fourth year, Merlin learned how to create a golem in Slytherin’s chamber of secrets. While the professor had discussed the martial uses of such a creature, Merlin had other ideas in mind. When he’d returned home that summer, he told Arthur to meet him in one of the courtyards with a pair of swords. “You’re not thinking of trying to teach me swordsmanship again are you Merlin?” Arthur had asked facetiously.

Merlin simply replied, “Not me, no.” When Arthur met him that night, Merlin conjured water and moistened a section of ground that Merlin had determined to have a high clay content. After some careful spellwork, the ground started to bubble and form into a man shaped lump of clay which subsequently rose out of the ground and stood at attention, waiting for instructions.

“What on earth?” Arthur exclaimed taking a couple of steps back to avoid the creature that now stood before him. Merlin explained that it was a golem and that once he’d dumped the requisite information in its head and given it instructions, it would provide a suitable sparring partner for Arthur. Though he had some difficulty transferring Professor Gryffindor’s skills into the lump of clay and giving it something of a personality for interaction purposes, Merlin did eventually succeed and it worked as well as he’d hoped it would, unless of course it was raining. Merlin chose to hide the golem they’d come to call Lumpy in the bathroom in his chambers. There was a time when his mother would have protested but since the pumphouse had stopped working entirely, the room had essentially become useless.

It was over this summer that Merlin noticed a change in Arthur. For the most part he was still the same old Arthur, just more mature and wiser than he’d been four years ago. But he seemed distracted and it too Merlin a while to figure out why. It had happened the day before Merlin was to begin his journey back to Hogwarts for his fifth year. Merlin had been talking to Arthur about the history of the Roman Republic and Empire, a subject that had become a favorite of his. Specifically he’d been talking about what had led to the decline of the Republic and how that had in turn eventually destroyed the Empire, when he noticed that Arthur was no longer paying attention but was instead staring off at something behind Merlin. Merlin turned around and saw the subject of Arthur’s gaze. She was an apparently inconspicuous serving girl. Belerothon had told Merlin that the girl was from Ferroton which was another coastal city on Argentia. Recently the city had been raided by vikingr leaving the town devastated and many of the city’s children orphaned. She was one of them and she’d come to Camelot in search of work to support herself since the prospects in the old iron mining town were dismal.

Merlin had seen her around the castle a couple times that summer but hadn’t really noticed her presence. Arthur, on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice her and vice versa. A grin broke out across Merlin’s face which did not go unnoticed by Arthur. “What are you doing grinning like an idiot?” Arthur asked somewhat angrily though Merlin could tell he knew why he was grinning.

“Oh nothing,” Merlin replied with false innocence.

“Now don’t you be getting any ideas,” Arthur warned.

“Ideas?” Merlin asked. “What ideas? I don’t have any ideas.”

“I’ll believe that when my mother stops denying Gorlois is a ghost.”

Merlin, of course, had plenty of ideas and was simply sorting through which one was the best to proceed with. That night, Merlin lured Arthur out under the pretense of more sparring lessons with Lumpy. Arthur came with his swords expecting a battle but instead found the girl waiting for him in the courtyard standing over the man shaped hole left by lumpy’s creation. Arthur could hear her talking to Merlin about it, “So that’s why this is here.”

“Yep,” Merlin replied before looking up and noticing Arthur. “Arthur!” he called. “Come on over.” Arthur proceeded slowly and reluctantly, his heart rate and blood pressure rising with each step. “Arthur,” Merlin said more quietly when he’d reached them. “This is Guinevere.”

The three of them stood in awkward silence for a few moments before Arthur said nervously, “Hello.” Guinevere returned the greeting. Now that the ice had been broken, Merlin decided to take his leave.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” he said with a small grin before slipping into the shadows and out of sight. From what Merlin could tell, the meeting went well, something that was confirmed the following morning when, as he was preparing to depart for Hogwarts, he noticed Arthur and Guinevere behaving far less nervously around one another, though still keeping their attraction to one another as discrete as possible, owing to the fact that Uther would certainly not approve.

Merlin’s fifth year progressed much as his previous four with a few exceptions. For one thing, the board of governors had apparently planned a grand event at the end of the year to commemorate the fifth anniversary of the school’s opening and to celebrate the success the whole endeavor had experienced in expanding and teaching an ever growing number of students. The castle itself had also been completely finished over the summer which was cause for celebration in and of itself according to Professor Hufflepuff. This grand event was called the Governors’ Ball and fifth years and above were not simply permitted to attend but encouraged to.

When it had been announced, Cadfael Cadogan a fourth year Gryffindor who’d joined Merlin’s group of friends asked him, “So you think you can maybe work some of your famous magic and get me into this ball Prince of Charms?”

Merlin rolled his eyes at the use of his nickname but answered nonetheless, “Honestly Cadogan, I don’t think they’ll be keeping that close an eye on who gets in. As long as you’re not obviously younger than a fifth year they probably won’t care.”

Of course, the fifth anniversary of the school also meant that the board of governors would want a somewhat more concrete measure of the establishment’s success than the word of the four founders who, though honorable people, obviously had a conflict of interest. Thus the board of governors had devised a test to be taken by all those students who had been present since the school’s founding, i.e. the fifth years. This test they called Ordinary Wizarding Levels less because they were ordinary or level and more because they needed a catchy sounding acronym i.e, “OWL”.

Much of Merlin’s time that year was devoted to studying for his OWLs and he wasn’t able to write back home as much as he’d have liked. He, Luke, Helena, and Charles would while away hours in the library or the Great Hall looking over their notes and texts and quizzing each other over the subject material. During these times, Merlin noticed a few things about his little band of friends. One, and this was not unexpected considering how much he liked to eat, Luke had been getting fatter. Two, Helena seemed to be dressing differently than she used to. In previous years, she’d dressed in a very masculine manner. Now, however, she’d started wearing jewelry and makeup, not so much that she looked silly but just enough to accentuate her already beautiful features and to complement the stern and haughty personality she’d inherited from her mother. Three, Merlin was starting to notice her the way Arthur had noticed Guinevere at the end of that summer.

Before Merlin fully realized what was going on, he’d become so distracted by her presence when they were studying that he’d fumbled his famous disarming charm in one of their practice duels for the OWL practical exam. Fortunately, he still did well on his OWLs and in the few weeks before the Governors’ Ball, Merlin and Helena seemed to grow extremely close. He’d flirt with her and she’d flirt back. Sometimes they’d go on misadventures of their own without the rest of the group. Finally, the week before the Governors’ Ball which was to take place on the last day of the term, Merlin got up the courage to ask Helena to the event with him.

“Helena, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Governors’ Ball with me,” he said. “I mean, we’ve been friends since we started here and, I think we’ve grown pretty close over the past few months.” Merlin felt stupid with how he phrased it but he figured something similar had probably happened with Arthur and Guinevere that night in the courtyard and they’d turned out fine.

What happened next, however, was anything but fine. First, Helena’s usual impenetrable wall of arrogance went up. “Um, I’m sorry, but what?” she asked with a kind of incredulous sarcasm that stung Merlin like a slap in the face. “Merlin, what on earth are you on about? Why would I go with _you_? I mean yes, we’re friends but you’re going on about this as if we’ve been something more.”

“Well I just thought that since we’d--”

“Well you thought wrong,” she said cutting him off and stalking off down the corridor in the other direction. Was Merlin disappointed? Of course, but he thought that maybe he had misread Helena’s intentions and that he should get over it. That is, until he noticed that she’d started up the exact same kind of flirtatious and misleading behavior with Charles as soon as she’d dumped Merlin. This last was a dagger through Merlin’s heart that prompted him to refuse to attend the last event of the year at all. Instead, he stayed in his room and packed his things for the following day’s journey. As he did so, Charles dressed for the ball.

“You know,” he said to Merlin. “When I first met Helena, I thought she was kind of bossy and overbearing but she’s actually a great girl.” Charles had asked Helena to the ball as well, but only as “friends”. Merlin knew though, that Charles was falling for her the way he had. It just hadn’t been long enough for him to realize it.

“I’d be careful with her,” Merlin warned, trying as best as he could to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “She’ll mess with you and then drop you like an ashwinder.”

Charles turned abruptly to look at Merlin. “Just because she broke your sissy little heart doesn’t mean that she’s the kind of girl to mess with guys and then leave them all for some kind of power rush. Just admit that you read her wrong,” he said angrily and defensively before striding toward the door. “Have fun sulking Merlin,” he called as he left the room.

As if being hurt by the girl he had feelings for and whom he thought reciprocated those feelings wasn’t enough, he was now being abandoned and attacked by one of his closest friend in the school. Merlin had a strong urge to kick something or to lash out with his now skilled and formidable magic. He thought he might even be able to pull off some of the dueling magic he’d had such difficulty with beforehand. Instead, he chose to finish packing, albeit somewhat more angrily and violently than he had before. By the time Charles had returned well past midnight, Merlin was fast asleep.

As he slept, he had the dream again. The sky was black as before and the woman once again stabbed the ground and released the dragons who fought. The rivers of blood flowed once more and the great city was once again illuminated with blinding green light. The red dragon once again flew off in defeat. This time, however, the woman did not turn into a young girl when Merlin looked back at her. Sure, she was slightly younger than when Merlin had first seen her in the dream but she was no girl. This time there was not anger or desire to kill her, only confusion. Who was this woman? Then the gentle hand caressed Merlin’s shoulder again and the voice returned, “Soon my grandchild, soon you will know.”

Once again Merlin had difficulty remembering the dream when he awoke the following morning and made his way from the castle. But he did remember more of it than the last time. This only left him more confused. Who was the woman? What did the dragons mean? And who was it who whispered in his ear? Merlin pondered these questions to no avail as he trekked south to the coast of Wales where he could get a ship to take him home. As he drew closer to his home, his thoughts turned from the troubling dream and his own broken heart to the troubling silence he’d experienced from Arthur and his mother in the last couple of months he’d been at Hogwarts. He’d written them multiple times but every time Archimedes had returned, he’d done so without any return correspondence. Merlin chose to take the shorter trip across the channel separating Wales and the port city of Borthladd Britannia rather than the longer and more expensive one that would have taken him straight to the port of Camelot. Merlin went on foot the rest of the way, following the roads and crossing the Isle of Argentia by land. As he did so, he heard some rather disturbing news.

Apparently, a rebellion against Uther was brewing in Camelot. This in itself wasn’t so worrying to Merlin as was the fact that it could certainly mean the end of Arthur and his other friends living in the royal court. Merlin knew full well from history how angry people tended to react toward adverse situations such as the one Uther had imposed upon Camelot and it was always a very bloody affair. Even more worrying was the fact that there seemed to be some degree of collusion with these rebels and some outside force of which Merlin had no knowledge. Apparently no one else really knew what it was either and they simply called it the “Camelot Liberation Army” though everyone Merlin asked about it seemed to be of the understanding that it had very little to do with liberating Camelot. The most disturbing news was news of a plague that had struck Merlin’s home, a plague that Merlin feared had already claimed those dear to him. Merlin’s fears were confirmed when, as he passed through the gates of Camelot, his mokeskin pack slung over his shoulder, he was arrested by the guards and carted off to a prison, outside the castle. When he asked what the charges were, the guard simply replied, “Lord Uther has ordered your execution as a sorcerer.”


	6. Home No More

# Home No More

The prison cell was dim and musty with only a single window looking out onto the town square where Uther’s men had already begun preparing the bonfire that was to be Merlin’s means of execution. As soon as he’d been arrested, Merlin’s mokeskin sack, and everything in it, including his wand, had been confiscated. Merlin had no means of escape and no way to verify what he already feared was true. Though Merlin desperately wanted to deny it, he could only come to one conclusion and that was that his mother was dead. It would be the only way Uther could even hope to execute him with the enchantment Gorlois had placed on him and his mother and it would explain why Uther had been so eager to apprehend Merlin before he entered the castle.

Despite the fact that Merlin silently dreaded what was to come as a result of no longer having the protection of his mother or Queen Rhiannon, what he was most downhearted about was the fact that he hadn’t been with his mother when she’d died. Except for Gorlois, she’d died alone.

It was these dark thoughts that filled Merlin’s head as he sat brooding in the dark when the sound of a familiar voice couldn’t help but lift his spirits. “I’ve brought you some food Merlin.”

Merlin looked up with a bit of a sad smile. “Come to bring me my last meal Arthur?”

Arthur hung his head for a moment before looking back at his friend. “I tried Merlin. I swear to God that I tried to change his mind but he won’t listen. He says it’s not just that you’re magic, but that your father killed his.”

Merlin’s expression hardened somewhat at this. “Do you believe him?” he asked.

“No,” Arthur replied. “But I don’t think you’re Uncle Ignatius’s son either.”

Merlin stood up and walked slowly over to the bars of the cell, close enough to Arthur that he could speak softly so as not to be overheard by the guards. “I’ve got to tell you something Arthur, but first tell me something.”

“What?”

“Is my mother dead?”

Arthur hesitated to reply. “Yes,” he finally said.

“How?”

“The plague,” Arthur replied. “Half the island’s come down with it but no one knows what it is. My father’s been showing the first signs of it lately.”

“When did it start? How?”

“Like I said, no one knows. But there was a woman who came in some time ago claiming to be one of Gorlois’s daughters.” At this Merlin’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, said her name was Morgause and that her twin Morgana had set a curse on the island to weaken it for her invasion. She said that she could lift the curse but only if father helped her to do so and lifted his ban on magic.”

“Let me guess, he refused.”

“He did more than that. He accused her of being the enchantress and burned her alive. Now that she’s gone though, and the plague persists, he’s also accused you. No one really believes it but everyone’s scared. He’s become increasingly paranoid and violent on top of all the fear about rebellions, invading armies, and plague.”

“Arthur, you have to get me out of here,” Merlin said suddenly.

“What? Merlin, I wouldn’t know how. Besides, you said you had something to tell me.”

“Right,” Merlin replied. He hesitated a moment before he began to explain his true heritage. “You’re right Arthur. Ignatius Ambrosius wasn’t my father, but I didn’t know that until a few years ago and it never really seemed all that relevant.”

“Who was your father then, and how?” Arthur trailed off.

“My father was _the Shadow_ ,” Merlin replied after a brief pause. At the look on Arthur’s face Merlin felt compelled to quickly add, “But I’m nothing like him Arthur! You know that. I’m not a mass murderer who kills just for the hell of it.”

“But you’re--”

“Arthur, we are defined by _our_ choices, _not_ those of our fathers.” This seemed to get through to Arthur. “Is your father really better than mine was? Furthermore, Uther wasn’t entirely innocent when it came to your grandfather’s death.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s better you hear it from Gorlois,” Merlin replied. “He was actually there.”

“I guess that explains the magic,” Arthur finally said after a long while.

“Yeah, it does.” There were several more moments of silence before Merlin spoke up again, “Arthur, you have to get me out of here. If this Morgana really has put a curse on the island and wants to invade, then I can’t die, not yet. You know that even with as little training as I’ve had I can still be useful in mounting a defense.”

“I do, but Merlin, it’s not safe for you here. Even if I _could_ somehow get you out, you’d just get captured again and they’d still execute you.”

“I can evade the soldiers well enough now that I know they’re after me.”

“How? They’re everywhere and even if you could keep outrunning them, you can’t run forever. You’d have to stop and hide at some point and there’s just nowhere to do that in the city.”

“Please Arthur,” Merlin begged.

Arthur thought for a moment before returning, “If you got out you’d have to leave the city, not forever, just for a little while. Until the plague claimed my father. Then I could lift the ban on magic and send you a sign that you could come back.”

“Okay, what sign?”

“You’d know it when you saw it,” Arthur replied before stopping himself. “What am I thinking. This is all pointless if I can’t get you out of here in the first place.”

“I suppose you’re right. Do you think you could maybe smuggle my mokeskin pack down to me?”

“No, father’s guarding it personally.”

Merlin let out a sigh of resignation. “Well, I guess, there’s nothing for it then.”

“I guess not,” replied Arthur, equally resigned. “It’s been good knowing you Merlin. You are and always shall be my friend.” As he said this, Arthur’s eyes watered.

Merlin couldn’t help but do the same. “And you mine he replied.” With that goodbye, Arthur turned to leave the prison. As he did so, Merlin turned to his last meal and contemplated how quickly everything had gone wrong. It seemed that the past month had gone from joyful and triumphant as he finished his OWLs to dismal and defeating as he’d been played by one of his closest friends, spurned by another, missed the death of his mother, and was now about to be executed on the verge of an invasion by an apparently very powerful witch who claimed to be Gorlois’s daughter. As Merlin looked at his last meal, he couldn’t help but be struck by a bit of gallows humor. Despite how bleak everything looked, at least his dinner was high quality. Arthur had obviously gotten it from the castle kitchens. It wasn’t even lumpy like prison food was supposed to be.

At that moment an idea struck Merlin. He picked up the meal and turned to face the slowly departing Arthur. He said rather louder than was necessary so he could be certain to get Arthur’s attention. “You call this prison food? It’s not even _lumpy_!”

Arthur wheeled around on him with a somewhat angry and confused look on his face. The guards, fortunately, were equally confused. Merlin gave Arthur a discrete wink and mouthed lumpy while gesturing at the food and Arthur’s face lit up apparently getting the message.

It was several more hours before Merlin’s plan came to fruition. Night had fallen completely now and the stake at which Merlin was to be burned the following morning was ready. The guards were as attentive at this late hour as they were earlier. This was undoubtedly due to the general terror the whole city was in. Merlin figured that he’d find it just as difficult to sleep if at any moment he might be subject to invasion, rebellion and devastating illness all at the same time. Merlin was himself, wide awake. Though _his_ alertness was due less to terror and more to anticipation of the rescue that he was sure was coming.

As he sat in the dark waiting, there was a sudden crash just outside the door. There was the shouting of other guards in the rest of the prison. Eventually, the door to his cell block burst open with a crash to reveal none other than Lumpy, the golem. Though he was missing part of his foot and had several arrows and a spear sticking out of him, he was more than capable of fending off the other guards with a sword before swiping them to one side with one of his enormous hands and rendering them unconscious.

Merlin stood back from the bars as the animated clay humanoid marched up to them and tore them apart with his bare hands. “Thanks lumpy,” Merlin said as he lept through the hole in his prison and out the door. For a while Lumpy followed him but then Merlin thought he should dismiss the clay creature. He didn’t have the heart to “de-animate” it, having grown rather attached to the semi-intelligent being, but he couldn’t send the golem back to his hiding place now that he’d made a rather public appearance. Nor could he let Lumpy follow him around for, as quick in combat as he was, the creature was rather slow and lumbering when travelling, not to mention extremely conspicuous. So instead, Merlin decided to set him free, or at least as free as a clay creature could understand. Merlin ducked into a dark alleyway and waited for Lumpy to catch up to him. When it did he spoke to it. “Lumpy,” he began. “I want you to go away from here. Go roam the woods around here and be free. Arthur and I release you from our service.” As he talked to the golem, Merlin pulled arrows and spears out of it and did his best to seal up gashes in the clay. “Also, go find some clay to fix that foot of yours,” Merlin finished. With that, the golem stood at attention and then lumbered off in the direction of the forests as quickly as it could.

Merlin waited for the golem to go out of sight before resuming his trek to the castle. As he climbed the great hill that overlooked the ocean on one side and the woods on the other, Merlin took care to remain cloaked in darkness. Eventually, he reached the castle and snuck in through an unguarded window. Merlin took as direct a route to Uther’s chambers as he could, being careful to avoid guards and soldiers. No doubt they would soon learn of his escape and be on the lookout for him.

As Merlin snuck through the castle corridors, he ran into, or rather through Gorlois who happened to be drifting through Merlin’s path. “Ugh,” Merlin said at the rather uncomfortable sensation of walking through a ghost.

“Merlin!” Gorlois exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Arthur told me he was helping you escape but he never said you’d be coming here. You have to leave, Uther’s become exceedingly paranoid and irrational. The plague’s gone to his mind. He won’t care anymore if killing you in the castle means his soul becomes trapped on earth in eternal agony.”

“I need my things Gorlois. Uther has my wand and there’s no way I’m going to make it hiding outside the city without it.”

“I see your problem Merlin but couldn’t you just get a new one?”

“With what money? All I’ve got left is in that mokeskin and I need it back.”

Gorlois let out ghostly sigh. “You can’t Merlin. It’s too dangerous.”

“Not if there’s a distraction. If you can distract both Uther and the guards I can sneak in and get my things. Then it won’t matter if Uther catches me.”

“You really should check your hubris Merlin,” Gorlois scolded. “But yes, I will help you. But you must promise me two things.”

“What?”

“First, that you will break the enchantment Uther had placed on my wife that prevents me from manifesting in her presence.”

“I’m not sure I can do that,” Merlin protested. “Sure I’ve read some things on it but I’m only sixteen.”

“I think you underestimate your abilities in this regard.”

“First I overestimate my abilities and now I’m underestimating them?”

“Merlin, we don’t have time for this, will you at least try? I haven’t seen her for sixteen years.”

Merlin hesitated before nodding reluctantly. “What’s the second thing?”

“You leave as soon as you’re done. You avoid any and all soldiers, you avoid everyone. Get out safely without anyone seeing.”

“Okay,” Merlin replied. “Now about that distraction.”

With that, the two set off in the direction of Uther’s chambers. In a stroke of luck, Uther wasn’t around at the moment, but the room was still heavily guarded. Fortunately, Gorlois came through and distracted them. It really wasn’t difficult. There weren’t many people who knew that Gorlois’s ghost haunted the corridors of the castle as he generally focused his attention on Merlin and occasionally Arthur. Thus, it was no surprise when the sudden appearance of the specter caught the attention of the guards. Merlin actually thought that Gorlois put on quite the show. He appeared to them and then warned them of the witch’s curse that had been laid upon the island. He told them that he had fallen to it and that if they didn’t flee immediately they would fall prey to it themselves in a fortnight. Of course he probably wasn’t far off in his warning and the guards undoubtedly knew that, but there seemed to be something about being informed by a ghost that made the warning all the more compelling to them.

Once the guards had fled, presumably for the docks to get off the island as quickly as possible, Merlin made his way to the door to Uther’s chambers. Unfortunately, he found the door locked. “Now what?” Gorlois asked.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” Merlin replied. He backed up from the door and checked to make sure that no one was within earshot. Then he ran at the double door and slammed his shoulder into its center forcing it open with a crash that echoed loudly enough to make Merlin nervous that he’d been heard despite his precautions. With that thought in his mind, he made haste in seeking out his pack. Eventually he found it and whipped his wand out. “Okay, now to find Igraine.”

At that moment Merlin was startled by the echo of a voice through the corridor outside. “What on earth is going on here?” The voice was Igraine’s.

Merlin quickly ducked into a closet and hid himself as Gorlois vanished due to the enchantment that had kept him separated from his wife for over a decade. As Igraine walked into the room confused and somewhat angry at the ruckus Merlin had created earlier and at the fact that the guards were no longer present, Merlin poked the tip of his wand outside the closet door, not so far that it was conspicuous, but far enough out that it could still be effective. Merlin stood hiding in the closet, his wand trained on Igraine who stood in the center of the room. His mind raced trying to decide what spell would be best to use to break the enchantment. Eventually he decided on one though it was incredibly complicated and though he was sure it would be sufficient to allow Gorlois to see Igraine again, Merlin wasn’t sure he could pull it off.

“ _Veritas imperat_ ,” he whispered, drawing from his own experience with secrets to put as much emphasis on his desire for truth as possible. For a moment, nothing happened and Merlin worried that he’d failed and that he’d have to figure out something else before he was discovered.

Finally though, Gorlois began to manifest again, finally able to speak with his wife. “Igraine,” he said from behind her, reaching out to her.

With a start she turned to face him and her face became ashen. “My God!” she exclaimed. “Gorlois! But you’re, you...”

“Yes,” he replied. “But you knew I was a wizard my wife, you knew that if I had unfinished business on this world I would manifest my ghost until it was completed.”

“But why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Believe me dearest, I tried. Uther, however, had other plans. He had you enchanted shortly after her murdered me to prevent our ever seeing each other again, lest I tell you the truth about my death.”

“Murdered? But I thought...”

“No, Igraine,” Gorlois said more angrily now, though his anger was not directed at Igraine. “I did not die in a battle with vikingr. I survived the encounter that immediately followed the death of our friend and lord Aurelianus, but only just. As I awaited medical attention, Uther found me and snuffed out the last of my life. That is why he outlawed magic, why he persecutes the gens magica. It is not because of _the Shadow_ whom he assisted in killing his father. It is because the others who were magicked in the city would have seen straight through his murder and wouldn’t have stood for it. They would have risen to avenge me leaving Seraphina to rule and this world would have turned out very differently indeed. Thus, before they could react, Uther chose to silence them.”

For a while, Igraine stood rooted, her face whiter than snow and a look of absolute terror on her face. This was not the terror of one foreseeing imminent danger but rather the terror of one who’s realized their sins and desperately wants to repent while at the same time being certain that they will never be able to. “Oh God Gorlois,” she finally said. “I’ve been married to a monster, I’ve foolishly believed his lies because they were more comfortable than the truth which I should have seen for myself well before now. I bore him a son...

“Please tell me this Gorlois, please tell me that I have at least not forsaken our daughters. Tell me that the woman who came here claiming to be Morgause was not truly she. I could not bear it if that was a lie I had also succumbed to. I could not bear to think that I had abandoned our children merely because Uther told me they had perished at the hands of the vikingr on their way to Hibernia.”

“I’m afraid Igraine,” Gorlois began sadly.

“Then she spoke the truth,” she said so softly that Merlin could barely hear her from his hiding place. “Gorlois, I cannot forgive myself,” she sobbed.

“Do not fret my love,” Gorlois replied, though his voice sounded hollow and less substantial now than it had in all the time Merlin had known him. It sounded as if he was talking through a mead horn and his voice continued to take on that insubstantial quality as he spoke, as did the rest of his manifestation and Merlin knew, that the man who had been like a father to him for sixteen years, was now moving on. His soul was finally crossing the veil. “ _I_ forgive you,” Gorlois finished before evaporating completely.

Merlin continued to hide in the closet watching his best friend’s mother sob as she once again experienced the grief she had felt when Gorlois had died the first time, only now the grief was tainted by a guilt that ran so deep her tears were like drops of ice as they struck the floor. Merlin was getting anxious for her to finally leave and just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, Uther entered the room.

“Where are the guards!” he shouted. He looked somewhat less healthy than he had the last time Merlin saw him. His eyes were bloodshot and he had dark circles around them. His voice was somewhat hoarse and his skin seemed to be in the process of turning a sickly shade of green. Uther also seemed to be more unstable than he used to be and it took him a moment to divert his attention from the missing guards to his wife’s tearstained face as she stood in the middle of the room. “What’ve _you_ been crying about,” he said with disdain.

“You monster,” she said though the grief and guilt had left her voice to be replaced by righteous anger and hatred. “I believed you, I let you lie to me and this whole time it was _you_ who killed him. My daughters were abandoned for _sixteen_ years because I believed you.”

“What are you on about wench?”

“You’re a murderer Uther, you murdered my husband and kept me from my children because you coveted me.”

It seemed to dawn on Uther what was transpiring, “Oh? _I_ kept you from your daughters did I? May I remind you that you were all too happy to forget about them as I recall. You didn’t seem very skeptical of my ‘lie’ as you call it.”

“Oh I’m fully aware of my complicity,” she said as she circled Uther. “And now that I realize the full weight of my sins I can only hope that what I’m about to do will suffice as a penitence.”

“What are you on about woman?”

Then Igraine did something that Merlin had never expected from her. She grabbed a letter opener from a nearby writing desk and lunged at Uther with it. Her first strike missed so she struck again. Uther, now aware of what was going on expertly avoided her, despite his deteriorated state. “You want to kill me _bitch?_ ” he shouted. “Just try it!”

She lunged again and Merlin heard the distinct sound of steel sinking into flesh but a moment later it became clear that it was not Uther who had been slayed and Merlin hadn’t been the only one to witness the murder. “Father? Mother?” Merlin’s heart sank when he heard Arthur’s voice. Merlin had only ever intended to fulfill Gorlois’s wish, he’d never intended for blood to be spilt. A guilt now weighed upon Merlin that he was sure he would never be rid of. He felt responsible, even if indirectly, for the death of his best friend’s mother. What he’d done, he knew he had to keep secret to the end of his days. He couldn’t tell Arthur the full story of what had happened, _ever_.

What happened next was even more unexpected. Merlin had fully expected Arthur to attack his own father in a rage and that Merlin would have to rush from his hiding place to defend him leaving him in the awkward position of explaining why he’d been hiding in the closet in the first place. Instead he heard Arthur turn and run away down the corridor, his boots echoing noisily on the stone floors. Uther pursued leaving Merlin free to step out from his closet. As he did so the sight of Igraine’s corpse lying in a puddle of blood greeted him. As Merlin walked slowly and quietly to the chamber doors he heard Arthur yell at Uther from down the hall, “Stay back or I swear to God I will kill you!” Uther must have taken the warning, for after that Merlin only heard one set of rapid footfalls echoing through the castle. Merlin wanted to stay, to grief and wallow in his guilt and self pity, to ponder how everything had gone so wrong so quickly. He knew he couldn’t though. He had to get out of the castle and out of the city now. Merlin could only think of one way to do that now that Uther’s soldiers had undoubtedly been alerted of his escape. Merlin made his way to a remote courtyard of the castle with his mokeskin pack on his back and his wand at the ready. When he finally reached the courtyard, he moved aside a small boulder that concealed what had once been a secret passage out of the castle.

For a brief moment, while he was out of danger, Merlin’s thoughts drifted back toward happier times, when he and Arthur used to sneak out through this passage and work without Uther’s permission. Now the passage was sealed by age and Uther’s command. Even if it hadn’t have been, Merlin would never have fit through it again. But maybe, maybe he could reopen it with his newfound magical skill and perhaps make it wide and high enough for him to travel through to escape. Merlin gave it a try and was pleased to discover that the passage responded to his commands.

After what seemed like hours of travelling through the magically enlarged tunnel by wandlight, Merlin emerged into the farmlands just outside the city walls. When he did so he extinguished his wand and collapsed the tunnel behind him. Merlin didn’t know where to go now, he’d escaped the city but he still had nowhere to hide. He supposed he could go to the woods nearby but he didn’t have the energy to keep fighting anymore. He threw down his sack and collapsed on the ground. He cried silently through the night for what felt like hours before his reason reasserted itself. He forced himself to get back to his feet, or at least his knees and he noticed that far away, at one of the farm houses, a small orange light burned in the window. Merlin thought back to those happy memories again and remembered a man who boasted to run the most productive farm in all of Argentia even despite Uther’s oppressive taxes.

Merlin stood and made his way to the farm house. When he arrived at the door he’d finally gotten a grip on himself. He knew that, though he might want to indulge his emotions, he could not afford that luxury now. He needed a place to hide, at least until Arthur sent his sign. If he sent his sign. After what had happened in the castle, Merlin couldn’t be sure what would happen now.

When Merlin knocked on the door a hoarse voice called from inside, “If Uther sent you here to extort more money from me I don’t have any!”

Merlin smiled to himself as he remembered fondly the man’s plain way of speaking. His speech was simple and direct and it concealed nothing for he had nothing to hide. “I’m not here for your money Ekelhart,” Merlin called back. “May I come in?”

“Would it stop you from doing so anyway if I said no?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied truthfully.

Merlin heard shuffling on the other side of the door before it opened before him to reveal a man who, though once strong, proud, and noble, was now weak, aging, and emaciated. Ekelhart inspected Merlin’s face as if trying to place it. Finally he rasped, “I know you. You’re that boy, the one who said he was from the city. Has it really been that long?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “Five years. May I come in?”

“I suppose,” the old man replied, stepping out of the doorway so Merlin could cross the threshold. Merlin closed the door behind him as Ekelhart shuffled over to a chair next to the dying fire. “Sit,” Ekelhart commanded. Merlin did as he was told and took a wooden chair across from his host. “So what brings you here? And no lies this time. You still need to tell me who you and that other boy really were.”

“Of course,” Merlin replied. He didn’t feel like keeping any more secrets, not after what he’d caused back at the castle. Merlin told the whole story, who he was, who the other boy had been when they’d snuck out to work for Ekelhart, and what he was doing now. “I realize that my being here’s put you in danger and I’m fully willing to leave now if you want me to. But you understand that I wanted to see a familiar face again, even if just for a few moments?”

“Of course I understand,” Ekelhart replied, his voice softer and kinder now. “But if you think you’ve put me in any more danger than I’m already in then you’re wrong. I’m dying Merlin, if you hadn’t noticed.” Ekelhart gave a bitter chuckle, “I’m not even that old. I just don’t have anything left to live on. Uther’s taxed me half to death. With that and the plague and brewing rebellion taking workers away from my farms, there’s no one left but me to run the place, and I can’t do it all myself. Especially when I’m starving myself.”

Ekelhart turned his head somewhat to look from the fire into Merlin’s blue eyes. “You know, just a few years ago, I would have told you I could run this place no matter what. That I could have kept running it and spat in Uther’s face when he discovered he couldn’t destroy me. But that’s what I get for my hubris I suppose.”

“I don’t think destroying you was his explicit goal,” Merlin replied. “He’s just greedy and he knows he can use the armies of Camelot to extract as much from his people as possible and then some.”

“Hmmmph. I suppose you’re right. That bastard probably didn’t even think about what would happen to his people if he turned them into subjects. Tax cattle if you will.” Ekelhart had to pause for a violent fit of coughing.

“Ekelhart,” Merlin said. “You’re not just starving are you?”

“No,” Ekelhart replied trying to catch his breath. “Pneumonia I think.”

“I can help. I’m not much for the healing but being malnourished can’t help your sickness. I can start things up on the farm again with magic.”

Ekelhart’s only reply was another fit of coughing and a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it won’t do me any good and it certainly won’t do you any good. After all won’t it be a bit conspicuous if the farm suddenly starts being productive again? Besides, I have the feeling that Camelot won’t be ruled by the line of Whitecastle for much longer and who knows what violence will befall the place.”

“You mean the invasion?” Merlin asked.

“Or the rebellion, probably both. You know the rebels have been trying to help out this Morgana lady and her army, get them into the city. I guess they figure that anything’s better than Uther but it’s incredibly stupid of them.”

“How do they know she’s any better than Uther?”

“Exactly.”

“I mean, if she is responsible for this plague, she’s already demonstrated that she’s willing to kill indiscriminately to get her way.”

Ekelhart nodded. “So you see Merlin, it’s better that you just let things be.”

“But I can’t just sit here and do nothing, I’ve already seen too much death. I can’t let you die too.”

“Let me die,” Ekelhart said as forcefully as he could. “Let me die, but that doesn’t mean you have to sit around.”

“I suppose I could make your last days comfortable,” Merlin replied.

Ekelhart nodded, suppressing a cough, “That would be nice, but you know what else Merlin?”

“What?”

“You know that of all the people I’ve hired, you, and ironically enough the lord’s son, have probably been the best. I admired that about you you know. That even at that age you were willing to do good work and not just do it but to do it with enthusiasm. The fact that you didn’t even have to do it and that you deliberately defied Uther to do it so that one day Arthur may rule Camelot better than his father did, makes me admire you even more. You’ve got good character Merlin, despite what you say about that business with the Lady Igraine.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Merlin asked.

“Merlin,” Ekelhart began. “Merlin, I want you to have this farm when I die. I’ll give you the deed and everything even though whoever comes to rule this godforsaken land will probably just seize it anyway. I want you to have it because I believe that one day, in the future, when justice is finally served... One day you’ll be able to claim this land again and to make it productive like it once was, maybe even more so.”

“Ekelhart,” Merlin began, “I don’t know what to...”

“Then don’t say anything,” Ekelhart said. “Just say, ‘I accept’ and go into my study with that fancy magic stick of yours and unlock the safe. Inside you’ll find the deed to the property. I’ll change the name on it and it’ll be yours but you must also promise me something.”

“What?”

“When I die, you’ll leave. If you were smart you wouldn’t be staying here, you’d be hightailing it off the island. I reckon you want to stick around until I die though so I’ll let you, it’s not like I’m in a position to tell you do to otherwise anyway. But when I die Merlin, and you leave, I want you to burn every last bit of this farm down. Not one shed, not one barn should be left standing for whoever wants to appropriate it after I’m gone. And when you do burn it down, burn me with it. I want my body to leave this world in flame the way our ancestors did after the Roman fashion. Will you do that for me?” Ekelhart looked at Merlin and Merlin nodded his assent. “Good,” Ekelhart replied. “Now go get that deed.”

Merlin spent probably another month at the old farmhouse taking care of Ekelhart. He used his magic to help grow small amounts of food for them and he did what he could for Ekelhart’s cough. As Ekelhart had suspected, no one came by the farmhouse searching for Merlin. It seemed that the Ekelhart’s once famous establishment was now no more than an obscurity, overlooked by all who didn’t know its history or the great things that could have been, if it hadn’t been crushed. Merlin was somewhat grateful for the solitude, as sad as it was that the enormous farm was falling to ruin through neglect. Still, it was only a matter of time before Ekelhart died and Merlin had to fulfill his promise. Then he’d have to leave his home, probably forever. The thought wrenched his heart worse than anything he’d felt up to this point. It was bad enough that many of the people closest to him had died in such a short time, now he had to leave his home. He thought about hiding in the woods like he’d planned with Arthur, but like all the best laid plans of mice and men, this one had failed. Merlin had no idea if Arthur was even in a position to help Merlin anymore after what had happened that night. Merlin’s best option at this point, was to leave Argentia.

Finally, the day he knew would come arrived. He arose one morning to find Ekelhart still asleep in his bed, only he wasn’t asleep, not anymore. Merlin could tell even before he reached the old man and checked his breathing that he was dead. “At least you died peacefully, in your sleep,” Merlin said to him. Merlin felt like he had to prepare the body appropriately, put it in nice clothes and the like, but he knew Ekelhart wouldn’t appreciate it. If he were still alive, the old man would probably have said something along the lines of, “What in Jupiter’s name are you doing that for? You stop that nonsense and get a move on.” So that’s what Merlin did. He collected his things and any supplies he figured he ought to bring with him from the decrepit old farmhouse. Then Merlin checked to make sure he still had the deed that Ekelhart had given him. He stowed it away with great care in his mokeskin pack before leaving the farmhouse. Merlin walked a safe distance from the building before pointing his wand at it and shouting with as much force as he could muster, “ _Incendio!_ ” The farmhouse burst into flames and Merlin repeated the act for every last building on the property, when he’d finished he could just barely see through the haze and smoke a line of soldiers pouring out of the city gates presumably to investigate the source of the flames. A single tear ran down Merlin’s cheek as he turned and walked off into the distance away from the inferno. His expression was hard as he thought about where he’d go. The only place he could think of was Hibernia, maybe, just maybe he’d be able to find Professor Slytherin and take refuge with him. So as Merlin disappeared over the horizon he cemented his plan. He would take a boat to Hibernia as soon as he could and seek out his one remaining mentor.


	7. The Last Druid

# The Last Druid

Merlin was awakened by the rustling of leaves nearby. Of course he hadn’t really been in that deep of a sleep to begin with. He’d been edgy and just a little paranoid since he’d left Camelot, always looking over his shoulder and sleeping lightly, just in case he’d been followed. Until now, his hypervigilance hadn’t yielded any spies. Merlin surreptitiously cocked his head as he lay on the hard ground, listening for the source of the sound. When he’d found it, it had ceased to be the mere rustling of leaves in the nearby woods and was now the sound of light footfalls. Based on the pattern of footfalls, Merlin guessed it wasn’t an animal, but it also wasn’t a soldier for there was no sound of jangling mail.

As the intruder to his small temporary camp drew closer, Merlin gripped his wand and was prepared to lash out at any moment and take the person by surprise. It was Merlin, however, who was surprised. “I know you’re awake sorcerer,” the intruder’s deep voice rumbled startling Merlin into action. Merlin quickly aimed his wand and bellowed “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” hoping that though he’d lost one element of surprise, he could still surprise the man by using the charm of his own invention. Merlin was once again surprised, however, when he noticed that the man, who wore nothing but white robes and an equally white beard over his clearly large and muscular body, had no weapons of any kind and that Merlin’s spell had been intercepted by a bush that he was certain had not been there a moment ago. Merlin’s perplexedness at the appearance of the new piece of flora didn’t last long though. Almost as soon as he’d fired his spell a number of vines shot down from the nearby trees and restrained him while another wrenched the wand from his hand.

“Who are you?” Merlin asked trying to muster as much confidence as he could when faced with a man who was about twice his size and clearly had some kind of magic that Merlin had never even heard of, let alone encountered and understood.

“I might ask you the same thing young sorcerer,” the man replied. “Tell me, have you come to learn my secrets as many before have? Have you come to acquire the power to destroy others as you see fit? Or perhaps you’ve come to destroy me. That would explain your attack.”

“What? No, I was just passing through. I’ve not been looking for you.”

“Oh? Then why attack?”

“What else am I supposed to do with someone who’s sneaking up on me in the middle of the night, especially when I might be being followed.”

“Followed? By whom?”

“The Lord Uther of Camelot or one of his men.” Merlin saw the man’s eyes widen slightly, though he didn’t know whether to take this as a sign of alarm or of something else entirely. Merlin chose to bet that it was a sign of alarm and spoke again, “That’s right, I’m being pursued by one of the greatest haters of magic in the British Isles and if you don’t want him messing around with you you’d better let me go so I can be on my way.” The man didn’t respond or react. In fact he seemed to ignore everything Merlin had said and he directed the vine that held Merlin’s wand to bring it to him.

When the man took the wand he began to inspect it. “English oak,” he muttered to himself. “But there are plenty of those. But what about the core?” At this the man stopped and stood silent for a moment as if he’d been struck by an epiphany the way one might be struck with a club. “No,” he muttered to himself forcefully though Merlin got the impression he was talking to someone else, that was there but Merlin couldn’t see at least not with his eyes. He did, however, feel a kind of presence. It was cold and powerful but also warm and familiar. The contradiction in what his magical senses were telling him made Merlin’s head spin.

“I said no,” the man repeated. “I’ve taught many and always in twos and _always_ one goes wrong, one takes my teachings and uses them for evil. Your son did. No, you’re right, he isn’t, but I still won’t do it.” Merlin found it very difficult to discern what was going on as the man seemed to be continuing to have a conversation with the aforementioned invisible entity. Finally the man said, “Fine! I will do it, but only because you have commanded it.” He then turned to a very confused Merlin who was promptly released by the vines that had been restraining him. “Come with me boy,” the man demanded. When Merlin merely stood where he was looking at the man confusedly the man prodded once more, “Well get a move on, we haven’t got all night.”

“Hold on,” Merlin began. “What about Uther’s men?”

“You’re not being pursued,” the man replied.

“How do you know?”

“Because the trees and the grasses and the birds have told me.”

“What?”

“Quit gawking, get your things, and follow me boy and all will become clear in time.”

“I’m sorry but what is going on? You show up, deflect a spell that I invented to disarm people only you didn’t have any weapons and you just blocked it by growing a shrub. You then attack me with vines, have an angry conversation with yourself, tell me quite literally that a little bird told you I wasn’t being pursued by Uther and _then_ , then you expect me to just walk with you, no questions asked.”

“Yes,” the man replied flatly.

“How! Could you at least tell me _why_ you want me to go with you?”

The man turned aside slightly apparently to talk once again to the invisible presence, “You didn’t say he’d be recalcitrant. He’s very much like his father.”

This got Merlin’s attention, “Hold on, what was that about my father?”

The man looked at Merlin once more and replied, “Come with me and I’ll tell you what you need to know, but no dallying now. If you don’t get your things together and start following me in time you might just lose me in the wood.” With that the man began to stride back into the darkness of the forest leaving Merlin to decide whether to follow the man or not. He didn’t take too long though because he realized that the man still had his wand which was kind of essential. So Merlin rushed to pack what few things he had left out into his mokeskin and took off in the direction of the man. For a while Merlin was concerned that he’d lost the man, and his wand, because he couldn’t see or hear him but Merlin kept going as if he was being guided. He felt like he was being drawn along by his inexplicable affinity for magic that even the great Hogwarts founders didn’t understand. Eventually, he caught up to the man and continued to follow him in silence.

Eventually, they reached a small clearing next to a small cliff. In the side of the cliff was a rather large cavern that seemed to extend well into the formation. Running out of the cavern was a small crystal clear stream. “Not much farther now,” the man said as he led Merlin into the cave. As they progressed, the light from the stars and moon faded until it was gone completely and Merlin had to grope around in the dark. How the man knew where to keep going without the light Merlin could only guess, but as for Merlin, he was all but blind. Finally, a small silver light appeared in the tunnel ahead. At first Merlin thought they were reaching the other end of a long tunnel but then he realized that he was only partially correct. Before them, the end of the tunnel terminated in a smooth wall of stone. The stone was inscribed with intricate designs that glowed like moonlight. The man seemed to mutter something in some foreign language that Merlin couldn’t understand and before their very eyes the wall vanished to reveal a large field encircled by the walls of the cliffs they had just cut through. The stream they had passed earlier flowed from a spring in the center of the enclosure. Near one end of the field sat a small hut which Merlin presumed belonged to the man with whom he’d traveled, immediately next to the hut stood a tall and ancient oak.

The man continued across the threshold and Merlin followed, but when he looked back, he saw that the stone wall had returned to its former station. When they reached the hut Merlin made to follow the man into it but he was stopped. “No,” the man said. “You will remain out here,” he commanded.

“What about what you promised to tell me?” Merlin asked.

“You may ask your questions here, outside my home.” The man entered his hut briefly before reemerging with a rowan staff which he used to lower himself to a sitting position on the ground. “Sit, and ask,” he said.

Merlin sat and then spoke. “First thing’s first, can I get my wand back?”

“No,” the man replied flatly.

“Why not?” Merlin asked defiantly.

“You will not need your wand while you stay here.”

“Who says I’m staying?”

“A relative of yours.”

“Relative?”

“Yes, and I will say no more on the matter for _that_ you may _not_ learn from me but from this relative.”

“Could you be any more cryptic?” Merlin muttered to himself.

Despite his apparent age, the man’s hearing seemed to be as good as his health for he replied, “Yes, but I won’t be.”

Merlin paused for a moment before asking, “Why am I here?”

“Because you followed me.”

“That’s not what I meant--”

“Then say what you mean,” the man interrupted.

Merlin had to fight to keep down his annoyance and mounting anger. Finally he spoke again, “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because I am to train you in that art that you and others refer to somewhat inaccurately as ‘magic’.”

“I’m already getting training in magic,” Merlin replied.

“What? At that ridiculous school in Scotland? There was a time when magic meant much more than wand waving and silly incantations. It was one of the most sacred arts of the ancient Celtic and Germanic peoples whom the Romans called barbarians. It was closely and inextricably linked with the gods and most importantly with nature. Even those who didn’t have a direct connection to the power of the gods could practice it to some degree through learning and understanding of the divine and natural worlds.

“But the Romans sterilized the arts and wiped out my kind wherever they could find and conquer them. Only in a few places were we able to flee the empire. The lands north of Emperor Hadrian’s wall, those east of the Rhine which the Romans called Germania, and this very isle, Hibernia. Even in your home island of Argentia, the old practices were discarded for the new and more regimented Roman magic.

“Even then, however, something of the old practices survived in the empire and those places it touched. Sorcerers still took on apprentices and gave them individual instruction. Now though, even that practice is dying. To my knowledge, and my knowledge of the lands of this world is extensive, I am the last to participate in this practice and even I swore, after my most recent apprentices, that I would never again teach another the arts.”

“And yet you intend on teaching me?” Merlin asked.

“Yes, because I have been commanded to,” the man replied.

“By my ‘relative’?”

The man gave no reply.

“So why did you swear to never teach again?”

“I am an old man, and I have seen many things. But most striking among these is the tendency for men, and women, to be corrupted by power and if knowledge is power, then this knowledge is the most powerful of all.

“In both of my most recent sets of apprentices, for I usually train two at a time, they lacked the discipline to complete their training. And in each pair, one used their power for evil, while the other chose to use it for good. One sought peace, another reveled in violence. A third sought justice and liberty, while the fourth sought vengeance and power. This is why I refused to teach again for my knowledge would inevitably be used for ill. In you I see many of the same characteristics, the good and the bad. You value justice, peace, and liberty, but at the same time you are weighed by a grief and a guilt that drives you to seek out power, though you do not yet see it. You think that maybe you can set everything in your life right through this power and though you consciously deny it, you are more tempted than ever to give in to your violent side to destroy those who have done you and those close to you wrong.”

“So why are you going to teach me then? If I’m such a risk?” Merlin asked.

“Because you still have a choice. And I have been told that perhaps, I can have some influence on this choice.”

“By my ‘relative’?”

“Actually, by a ‘little bird’ as you put it. Or perhaps, more accurately, a large bird.” In that moment, Archimedes, whom Merlin hadn’t seen since he’d fled Camelot swooped out of the cloudless night and landed on his shoulder, hooting loudly in his ear.

“Archimedes,” Merlin said, taking comfort in the fact that he wasn’t completely friendless.

The man seemed to read his thoughts, “You are never friendless Merlin, you just need to remember where to look to find your _true_ friends.”

Merlin was about to ask how the man had known his name when once again, the man seemed to read his mind, “A ‘little bird’ told me.”

Finally, Merlin remembered what had gotten his attention in the first place. “You said something about my father?”

“Ah, yes,” the man replied. “He was one of my more recent apprentices. Many years before my most recent pair, I trained another pair. Both were extremely talented. One, was Gorlois of Camelot, the other came to be known as _the Shadow_ or _the Demon_ though he was known simply as Marcus Donndubhan then. While Gorlois questioned everything and was prone to disobedience, Marcus was fervently attentive and obeyed my every command. At the beginning, I favored Marcus and believed that it was Gorlois who would go astray. But I was blinded by my own vanity for Marcus’s attentiveness was intended to flatter me. Marcus, as you probably know, had a lust for violence and terror. The real reason for his obedience was not that he believed any of my warnings about the corrupting influence of power, but that he found it was the quickest way to acquire that power. Only Gorlois saw him for what he was and sought to rein him in with reason but eventually, he failed. By the time I realized what had been happening, seven years had passed and it was too late. One night, Marcus and Gorlois became engaged in a duel, realizing my mistakes and hoping to rectify them, I assisted the apprentice I had spurned for too long but the duel ended in a stalemate and Marcus was able to escape. Gorlois felt duty bound to pursue, or at least protect others against him, though the duty should have been mine.

“I offered to help but Gorlois refused. Oddly enough, it was not out of hurt or anger at having been shunned for so long or even that I had done so in a way that created the problem in the first place. He refused for a purely logical reason as was his tendency. Gorlois, you see, did not trust my judgement and I couldn’t fault him for doing so. For years I had been blinded by the flattery of a madman and given him more power while withholding that same power from the one who would do good.

“It was because of this history with Gorlois that I was surprised he would send his daughters to me in a time of crisis, when _the Shadow_ threatened to level their entire city. When I discovered that he’d been murdered by Uther and that Igraine had forsaken her daughters, I raised them. I trained them as I had Gorlois and Marcus this time taking greater care to instill the importance of discipline and self control as well as the warning of the corrupting influence of power.

“For a time, I thought I had succeeded. But then, they learned of their father’s death at the hands of Uther. Morgause took it well, especially considering I had intentionally kept this knowledge secret from them for fear of hurting them and turning them to evil purposes. Morgana, on the other hand, did not take it well. She grew angry and this hatred and anger for the line of Pendragon grew into a thirst for vengeance. She hid it as well as she could but eventually, I had to confront her. I tried to convince her to turn back, but she would not listen. She eventually left with the intention of amassing an army to take Camelot and slay Uther. Morgause left soon after to try and thwart her sister. You, of course, know what became of her.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Merlin asked.

“Because you asked. And because I think you need to know about the past in order to make informed decisions for the future.”

Merlin thought about this for a moment but couldn’t really see what relevance it had for him. Then an inconsistency in the man’s story occurred to him. “Hold on,” he said. “You said earlier that it was my father who ‘recalcitrant’, but you just said that it was Gorlois who was the recalcitrant one.”

“And is Gorlois not your father?” the man asked, but it was less of a question of clarification and more of a challenge to think critically, though Merlin didn’t know about what he was supposed to think critically. This Marcus, clearly _was_ his father, after all they were blood. Once again, the man seemed to read Merlin’s thoughts, “You may have been conceived from Marcus’s seed, but that doesn’t mean he is your father. ‘Father’ Merlin, is more than just a word and it’s _not_ merely a state of being. It is an occupation, a job. Marcus was never around to be your father, and in truth, when he intended to conceive you, his purposes were not fatherly in the slightest. After all, he raped your mother to do it. Marcus wanted someone he could mold and manipulate into becoming a younger version of himself. He wanted a man he could trust for he could trust no one else. He wanted someone as ruthless, mad, and violent as he was.

“Gorlois, however, snatched that from him. Gorlois, though he had no physical substance any longer by the time you were born, raised you. Even you think of him as a father. Who then is your real father Merlin? _The Shadow_ or Gorlois? You and Marcus may share _blood_ , but you and Gorlois share your very _being_ because it was he who filled the role of father for you, not Marcus.”

They sat in silence for a while after that before Merlin asked his final question for the night. “So you say you’re going to teach me what you know. What if I refuse? What if I choose to continue on my way?”

“That is your choice,” the man replied. “But I ask you to consider, on your way to where? To your rather less than savory mentor Slytherin? Also consider what you can learn from me versus what you can learn from him for though both of us possess great knowledge, our knowledge is very different from one another as are our intentions. Ask yourself what it is you really want and then give me your decision by morning. For now, it is time to rest.” With that the man rose and strode into his hut leaving Merlin to try and fall asleep despite the turmoil of his thoughts. As he attempted to drift into unconsciousness, Merlin pondered the meaning of the man’s story about Gorlois and Marcus and Morgana and Morgause. He tried to divine the importance of these tales that the man had implied they carried. But most of all, he wracked his brains trying to decide what he should do. With these thoughts, Merlin fell into a fitful sleep on the soft soil outside the man’s hut.

***

Merlin was dreaming and it was very much like the dream he’d had so many times before, of the woman releasing the dragons. This time, however, the castle he stood in wasn’t in ruins and there were no dragons. There was only the woman, sitting on an iron throne. “Vengeance is mine,” she said, though she didn’t seem to be speaking to Merlin. “I shall now rule all I lay my eyes on and none may stop me.” The scene changed, and Merlin saw Arthur hiding in the woods outside Camelot, he looked slightly older and there were other people with him, all dressed in armor and armed with bows and broadswords. “Help me Merlin,” he said, though it wasn’t a plea so much the request of one who was determined to accomplish a goal, a goal that required Merlin’s assistance to attain. “Help me free our home.”

When Merlin awoke, the sky was graying, a harbinger of the coming dawn. The man whom he’d followed to the strange place hidden in the cliffs had yet to awaken. Unlike his previous dreams, Merlin remembered everything in vivid detail. His first thought was to return to Camelot and help Arthur, but then he recalled that the Arthur in his dream was older. Merlin also got the sense that what he had seen hadn’t happened yet. “Foolish,” he scolded himself. “You know prophecy’s the work of silly fortune tellers and con artists.” He couldn’t be a seer, seers were just a load of hokum. There were no prophecies controlling the fate of men. There were only choices. Still, he couldn’t shake the gut feeling that he had glimpsed the future, however imprecisely and vaguely.

At that moment, Merlin was startled by the sudden opening of the door to the hut. “Well, young Merlin,” the man said. “Now the time’s come for your decision.”

For a moment Merlin was about to reply that he would leave and continue on his way but something held him back. He realized that it was the dream, the prophecy that he wanted so much to deny was an actual prophecy, but could not. His instincts told him that he _would_ need to help Arthur on some great quest to free Camelot in the future and that if he were to be of any use he would need all the power he could muster. He could continue to learn with Professor Slytherin, or he could learn from this man, who was clearly much more powerful than any other living witch or wizard. “I’ll stay,” Merlin replied.

“Good.”

“But, since I am staying, what do I call you? What’s your name?”

“You will simply call me Master, for I am the master here and you are the apprentice.”

“Okay,” Merlin replied. “Um, Master, may I have my wand back now?”

“No, you will not need it while you are here. You shall learn to use magic without it. We will begin your instruction immediately.”

For three months Merlin took instruction from his new master. He learned of the ancient ways of the druids, the learned men of the celtic peoples. Chief among the teachings were those relating to sorcery. Merlin soon discovered that magic, as he’d known it, was merely scratching the surface of the arcane. Merlin’s master spoke of ancient gods who fought a war that left their kind devastated. Those who survived fell to earth and took up refuge there. These few gods brought with them all the ancestors of the many magical species that populated the earth. The gods then became enamored with humankind and some had children by men and women. These children, according to the master, were the first sorcerers and their descendants by other humans are the source of that most basic and powerful kind of magic. But there were more kinds of magic, that even the gens non magica could use, if they devoted effort to learning how. Though Merlin’s master did not elaborate on this subject. Merlin didn’t know how much to believe of what he was being told, but he paid attention to his studies and his training because he knew what he had to do in the end. He had to become powerful enough to help Arthur and that meant learning from his new master.

Among the magical skills that Merlin learned were those related to nature. He learned to control the plants of the world as his master had. He also learned to listen to the sounds of nature, to the spirits of the flora and fauna and to hear what they had to say to him. “This ability,” his master said once, “is not inherent in you though your magical blood certainly helps. You cannot control the vines and the trees as you would control a boulder you levitate with your wand or as you control a sword. You must speak to and negotiate with nature, convince it to do your bidding. Only once you stop trying to coerce it with sheer power, will it truly obey your will.

“This power through nature, you see, does not come from your magic but from that of the nature goddess. When she came to earth, she divided herself and spread herself across and through all the living things, for this was her means of survival. As long as there is life on earth, she shall live. She and her power resides in all of us and penetrates more deeply than any wand waving spell could. Few throughout time have understood this. Among them was the ancient king Bran of Wales whose cauldron merged the great powers of magic and the nature goddess. The cauldron, if used properly, could recall the dead from the veil.”

In addition to his magical training, however, Merlin had the much dreaded sword training. While at Hogwarts, his struggle with the subject had been tolerated by teachers who rather liked him for his other talents, Merlin’s new master was not so tolerant. “You fail because you have been coddled,” he scolded. “You have been allowed to neglect practice of this art for it has not been truly expected of you.”

“But why must I learn to use a sword if I’m already good enough--”

“No! There is no ‘good enough’. Your excuses and complaints only serve as crutches. You will improve eventually, but only if _you_ expect yourself to improve and make an _effort_ to meet this expectation.”

Though Merlin resented it at first, the master was right and by summer’s end, he had greatly improved in a great many things, including his skill with a sword. It was the night before Merlin was to leave that his master finally spoke to him of his motivations. “I know why you stay Merlin, and I must warn you that powerlust is a very dangerous thing. I had thought you would have taken my warning when we first met more seriously but it seems you have not.”

“What powerlust?” Merlin asked surprised.

“You stayed because you want power. You think you want it to do good, to help your friend, but those who desire the power to control often find that the power eventually controls them.”

“What? Okay, yes, I want to learn from you for power. But I only want the power to do good, to protect my friend. I only want power to help people, is that so bad?”

“Yes. Remember Merlin, power corrupts even those who seek to use it for good. You yourself have had this very discussion several times with this friend of yours you seek to help. Remember Caesar?”

The question struck him like a hammer. In that moment a memory burst forth from the deep recesses of his mind. The memory was so long ago but now it came to him as if it had happened only yesterday. It was the day he’d made his promise to Arthur, the promise that went deeper than any words they said that day could have described.

Merlin’s master spoke again, “I will teach you no further this year. The summer is nearing its end and you must leave for your school.”

“But I thought me staying meant me staying to learn from you until I was finished, even if that meant forgoing Hogwarts,” Merlin protested.

“You will return for further training,” his master replied. “But only at the start of the next summer. I have been told that you have great destiny Merlin, but certain pieces of the puzzle must fall into place in order for you to fulfill it. This means that you must complete your schooling at Hogwarts, as backward as I believe their methods to be. Furthermore, I will not teach you any more while your powerlust is still strong. Before you return to me, you must discipline your mind. No more excuses or quick fixes, and most of all, you must learn to guard against the corrupting influence of power or else you shall meet the same fate as _the Shadow_.”

Merlin remained silent. He hadn’t expected to be sent away so soon, even with as much as he had learned. He also hadn’t expected to hear the name of his biological father again. His master hadn’t mentioned him at all since that first night. Merlin wanted to protest, to say that he wouldn’t be corrupted, that if only he could learn more, become more powerful, he could make the world a much better place. He could save the magical population from being hunted by the gens non magica. He could ensure freedom for all and restore the age of Roman reason and the Republic. No more despotic lords and kings. But even as he thought it, he knew that his master was right. “What must I do Master?” he asked.

“In the morning you will gather your things and leave for Hogwarts where you will complete your sixth year. You will not speak of me, or where I am to anyone else, and you will return when you are ready.”

Merlin nodded, then asked, “This person who told you about my ‘destiny’...”

“Yes, your relative. I will not reveal this person’s nature for I have been asked not to. You will understand it in time however.” With that Merlin’s master rose and entered his hut and went to sleep. Merlin did the same, sleeping under the shelter of the oak tree.

Once Merlin fell asleep, he was greeted by another dream, this one was very different from any of the previous ones. He stood in a starlit meadow situated on a small island. At first Merlin thought he was at sea, but the light, late summer breeze that tousled his hair didn’t smell of salt. Far off in the distance he could make out a shoreline. The island was in the middle of a lake, a very large lake.

He turned around to better take in his surroundings. In the middle of the island, was an enormous oak tree, much larger than the one outside his master’s hut. As he took in the sight of the great and ancient tree, a voice startled him from behind. “I was wondering when I’d finally be seeing you.” It was a woman’s voice, and it sounded familiar. It took him a moment but he eventually remembered it from his recurring dream of the dragons. Though this was not the voice of the harsh woman who freed the dragons with the sword. It was the voice of the second woman, the one whom he’d never seen but always heard, the one who always ended the dreams, the one who claimed to be his grandmother. Merlin turned to look at her and was surprised to see a woman who was youthful and beautiful.

She had blond hair like Merlin, except hers was the consistency of silk. Her eyes were blue like his, but they seemed to change quality every time you looked at them. One moment, they were warm and kind, the way Merlin’s mother had described his eyes, the next they were cold as ice, or as violent as a lightning storm at sea. Draped around her, she wore a flowing dress of silver threads that glistened and reflected the starlight as if they were made from the waters of the lake that surrounded them.

“Well don’t look so surprised,” she said with a smile. “After all, this isn’t really the first time we’ve met.”

“You’re...”

The woman smiled warmly again. “Come, sit beside me.” She motioned toward the oak tree and they sat together on one of its enormous roots. “Now you must have questions so ask away.”

Merlin didn’t know where to begin but he forced himself to draw his attention from his perplexing surroundings to the woman who sat beside him. “Where are we?”

“This?” she gestured around her. “This is Avalon. The lake is my realm and it guards this island which bears my sacred tree. Though, if we really want to be accurate, neither of us are really here. I am physically in the lake while you are physically asleep beneath another oak tree far away in Hibernia.”

“So this isn’t real then? It’s just going on in my head?”

“Just because it’s in your head my grandchild doesn’t mean it’s not real.” At Merlin’s quizzical look, she spoke again. “You see this oak upon which we sit? Your wand was made from its wood. In fact it was made from a portion of that very branch there.” Merlin followed where she was pointing and found a stunted tree branch that looked like it had had its end sawed off. “The core of your wand is of my hair,” she finished. “This is a real place, and we _are_ both here in a sense, but our presence here is more of a projection than a physical reality.”

When she mentioned his wand a thought struck Merlin. “Hold on, so you’re sidhe?”

The woman giggled. “Oh Scipio was ever so superstitious. No, am not. But I let him think I was when I asked him to make your wand. You see Merlin, my grandson, there are forces at work on this world that would seek to destroy it. I have foreseen disastrous events for many ages and have been taking steps to avert them. Well, more accurately the Amalgam has foreseen them, but he’s a subject for another time. The point is Merlin, I convinced Scipio to make your wand and told him only a descendant of mine could wield it. I asked him to make it such that this descendant, that is, you Merlin, could avert this future crisis. If I let him think I was some sort of sidhe trickster, it was only so that I could continue to conceal my true identity and the location of Avalon.”

“But why?” Merlin asked, very confused about what was going on.

“I can’t tell you now, for it would change the course of the future in unknowable ways. But can you at least trust that you have a great destiny Merlin?”

Merlin shook his head in confusion and remained silent for a moment trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. Finally he asked, “So you’re my grandmother? On my father’s side I presume? You’re Marcus’s mother?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“But who are you, really. If you’re my grandmother, why do you look so, well young?”

She smiled wryly, “Because Merlin, I’m not like you. I’m not human. I’ve lived long before your people and I shall live long after, barring any unforeseen catastrophes, and maybe some foreseen ones.”

“What do you mean ‘not human’?”

“I think you know Merlin. Think back to what you’ve learned so far this summer.”

Merlin thought back and remembered his master’s stories about the gods and their children and he realized who he was talking to. “You’re a goddess?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she replied.

“Why am I here?”

“Because you wanted to be here. I assume you needed some kind of guidance, guidance that you didn’t think you could get from anyone else.”

“Guidance for what?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “Perhaps if you thought about why you’re here, what you really need.”

Merlin tried to think about why he’d transport himself via dream magic to some island in the middle of nowhere but he couldn’t. In fact, he found it difficult to think period. He felt so lost. Before that summer had started, he’d had plans, he knew what he was going to do. He was going to finish his studies at Hogwarts, and when Uther died, he was going to help Arthur make Camelot great again. Now, he’d essentially been exiled, and was training under a crazy old druid because of some dream he’d had that he thought _might_ be about the future. Then it struck Merlin, that’s what he really wanted guidance on, the dreams, all of them. He wanted to know what they meant, he wanted to remember them completely and he _desperately_ needed to know if his instinct that they were some kind of prophecies was right.

“The dreams,” he finally said. “I want to know about the dreams. No, I _need_ to know about them. Are they prophecies?”

The woman frowned slightly before replying, “Yes, of a kind. There are many kinds of prophecies and we must all be careful with how we act upon them. Especially for humans.”

“Why especially humans?”

“Because your sight is limited, you do not have the same capacity to comprehend time and space the way others do. We ‘gods’ have a better ability to do this but even our abilities in this regard are limited. Only the Amalgam has full knowledge and he rarely speaks with any others.”

“I need to understand the dreams,” Merlin finally said. “I need to know what they mean. I need clarity.”

The woman frowned again, but it wasn’t a disapproving frown. It was a sad frown, like one might find on someone who had to make a hard decision for the good of another, a decision that would cause both the decider and the other great pain. Finally she stood from her seat and walked to the lakeshore. Merlin followed and watched as she scooped up some water from the lake into her hand. As she did so, a small glass vial formed. The vial contained the water she had scooped up. She handed the vial to Merlin and said, “I cannot give you the answers you seek, but you may find them through this. Drink it and your power of sight will be fully unchained, for now it is only nascent. But be warned Merlin, once you do, you can never go back. Your power of sight will haunt you to the end of your days and while sometimes it may be a great blessing to see those things unseen by others, it can also be a great curse.”

Merlin looked at the vial and carefully took it from her hand. “Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” the woman replied sadly. “And now, I do believe our time is up, you shall wake soon and begin your journey back to Hogwarts.” With that the woman began to walk into the lake, her dress flowing out around her and appearing to melt into the waters.

“Wait!” Merlin called after her as the strange dream began to fade. “Who are you? What’s your name?”

She turned back and smiled at him and called back before her head vanished into the lake’s waters, “I have many names Merlin, but most who remember me simply call me The Lady of the Lake.” With that the dream ended and Merlin awoke once again to a graying sky. At first he was certain that the dream had been just that, a dream. No dream transport magic or Ladies of Lakes. But then he felt something cold and hard in his hand. He raised it to his face and opened his palm to reveal the vial of water from the lake.


	8. The Madness of Merlinus Ambrosius

# The Madness of Merlinus Ambrosius

While all of Merlin’s previous returns to Hogwarts for the new school year had been a mixture of some mild melancholy at having to leave home again and nearly giddy excitement for what awaited him, this year, he felt no such feelings. Indeed, he didn’t even experience any sadness anymore at having lost his home, or at least, he didn’t think he did. Instead Merlin felt kind of dead, flat. It was as if the world were shrouded in grey. He’d felt this way at least since he’d left the druid who’d become his kind of on and off master. Merlin reckoned though, that his time in the secret hideout on Hibernia had merely left him so preoccupied that he hadn’t had time to notice the general sense of emptiness that he bore.

Merlin wasn’t the only one to notice the apparently abrupt change in his disposition. Unfortunately, the first to comment on it to him was Charles on the sorting night. Gryffindor’s hat had just done the unexpected by singing to the gathered students before the sorting, Merlin guessed that for such an intelligent hat it must get bored sitting around all year waiting for each new sorting, even with Professor Gryffindor to talk to. After the sorting, there was more animated chatter among the students than usual owing primarily to the hat’s unexpected performance. Merlin, however, did not participate, something that Charles noticed. “You’re not still sulking about Helena are you?” he asked snidely.

“I never sulked. So what makes you think I’m doing so now?” Merlin replied flatly as he nudged his dinner around his plate but ate little more than a few nibbles. Charles rolled his eyes at the response.

“Well you’re sulking about something,” Charles jabbed back.

“No,” Merlin replied, his tones once again flat and his face unreadable. “I’m just not feeling quite well. I think I’ll turn in early.” With that Merlin rose and left the Great Hall leaving Charles to gaze after him with mingled confusion and curiosity with a hint of disgust.

The next few weeks back at Hogwarts went similarly. Merlin avoided all his friends and kept mostly to himself. Charles and Helena didn’t make much of an effort to figure out what the matter was. In Merlin’s estimation, she was too busy leading him along and he was too busy letting himself be led along. If it hadn’t been three months since what Merlin decided amounted to their betrayal of him, he would have been hurt and bitter when he saw them together. As it was he felt nothing. It wasn’t good or bad that he knew Charles would get hurt in the end or that with his temper it might eventually result in equal or worse hurt for Helena. For Merlin, it was simply an inevitability, an undeniable fact that was no more good or bad, joyful or tragic, than the passing of the seasons or the phases of the moon.

Charles and Helena weren’t the only ones to notice Merlin’s general glumness and apathy, however. On several occasions, Luke and Cadogan had attempted to confront Merlin about his uncharacteristic behavior, all to no avail. Merlin was able to successfully use his vastly improved skills to avoid them. When they were out on the grounds, Merlin would call upon the powers of nature to help him speed along faster than should have been humanly possible. In the halls of the castle, he would surreptitiously confund them into taking a wrong turn when following him.

The professors also noticed Merlin’s change in behavior but were at an equal loss to explain it or help. Merlin simply avoided the subject or gave vague answers if they brought it up. The only one who seemed to get through at all was Professor Slytherin who had chosen to resume Merlin’s private lessons in the chamber of secrets. When Merlin showed up for his first of the school year, the professor made sure to make it his priority to address the behavioral change upfront. “I’ve noticed you’ve been behaving uncharacteristically since your return Merlin,” he began before opening the chamber. “I’ve spoken with your friend Charles--”

“He’s not my friend,” Merlin interrupted making sure to hold his teacher’s gaze firmly.

“I see,” the professor replied. “Be that as it may I’ve spoken with him and he is under the impression that this has something to do with your breakup with the Ravenclaw girl. I, however, know this is false. I do not know exactly _why_ you’ve been behaving out of character lately but that doesn’t matter to me so much as your continued devotion to learning what I teach you. If it becomes evident that this malaise of yours is interfering with your lessons, I will discontinue them until you’ve sorted it out. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly Professor,” Merlin replied.

“Very well then, let’s continue down shall we?” With that Slytherin let loose one of his hisses and the secret trapdoor slid open to reveal the staircase that led to the chamber.

The professor’s private lessons had taken an even darker turn this year than they had the previous one and Slytherin had fully expected that this, in combination with Merlin’s new disposition, would have caused Merlin to fully part ways with the professor and discontinue their lessons. Instead, Merlin paid more attention to and put more effort into the lessons than ever. He was determined to learn as much as he could from the one wizard he knew who did not fear power but rather embraced it. Despite the druid’s warning, Merlin’s desire to become powerful had grown nearly to the point of obsession. However, what Merlin had once rationalized as the noble goal of discovering power to set things right in his home, to help Arthur, now became a search for power for its own sake. With each lesson, he surrendered a little bit more of himself to his deeply buried anger and thirst for vengeance against those who took his home from him.

He was scarcely aware it was happening until he was unexpectedly waylaid by Charles after class one afternoon in the dead of winter. Charles caught him in the entrance hall and grabbed his shoulder. Merlin whipped around fully expecting more snideness and cruelty from his former friend. Instead he saw pain in Charles’s face and Merlin knew what had happened. “So she finally did it did she? You got too close and she cut you loose,” Merlin said smirking with vicious satisfaction.

“Please Merlin,” Charles said, pleading. “I need help. I need her back. I need--”

“No,” Merlin interrupted.

“What?” Charles asked, his expression turning from pained to one of simultaneous realization and denial at what he perceived to be Merlin’s betrayal.

“I said no,” Merlin replied more forcefully. “She did the same to me and I warned you that she would repeat it with you if you got too close. What did you do when I warned you? You spurned me. This whole year you’ve continued to spurn me and now that you’ve finally seen that my warning was true, you have the _gall_ to come back here and _beg_ me for my help in winning her back.”

Merlin saw with satisfaction that he’d hit a nerve and Charles’s temper began to rise as expected. “I’m _not_ begging.”

“Yes you are,” Merlin replied forcefully. “And the best part is, I couldn’t help you even if I wanted to. No amount of convincing’s going to get her back for you and no amount of sorcery will do it either. She’s probably already moved onto someone else by now and has started filling his ear with poison about what a foolish and arrogant little sod you were, thinking there was anything between you.”

“Stop!” Charles shouted drawing attention from other passing students as his temper rose further.

But Merlin didn’t stop, he was enjoying his petty revenge all too much. “I’ll bet she’s even talking about your other personality faults, like your quick temper and your persistent belligerence.

“How close did she let _you_ get Charles? Did you two actually start snogging in the secret parts of the castle in the middle of the night? Where were you all those nights you snuck out of the dorms? How much do you want to bet she’ll go even further with the next guy?”

“Stop it Merlin or I swear--”

“And jealous too! I bet that’ll be the first thing she points out to her next conquest, how jealous the last fool who fell for her was.

“Well Charles, all I can say is that you reap what you sow. I warned you but you didn’t listen and this is what comes of it. So no, I won’t help you. You’re getting exactly what you deserve.” With that Merlin spun on his heel and began to stalk off in the direction of the Slytherin dorms.

“Get back here!” Charles shouted. “Get back here _commoner_! My father is the Baron Baldwin and I command you to get back here and help me!”

Merlin stopped and turned his head slightly to glance over his shoulder. “I don’t give a damn about you and your English aristocracy Charles. I’m _not_ English.” Merlin then kept going. He didn’t so much hear or see Charles draw his wand as _feel_ it. He sensed that Charles was preparing to attack him from behind in a rage. Merlin found, much to his satisfaction, that he could even predict what spell Charles was going to attack him with and at what point it would begin to leave the tip of his wand. Merlin whipped around and with perfect timing shouted “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” which caused Charles’s wand to fly from his hand just as his overpowered repulsion jinx left the tip of his wand, causing it to backfire and sending Charles crashing against the far wall where he collapsed in a heap, barely conscious.

Merlin strode up toward the crumpled form of Charles, summoning his former friend’s wand to him from the floor even as the other boy regained his full consciousness. In mere moments, Merlin stood menacingly over Charles glaring down at him with satisfaction at the fear in his eyes. Around them a number of students had gathered to watch the scene but Merlin didn’t really mind. In fact, he was glad they were present. He _wanted_ them to witness his power, to see just how good he was and how easily he could conquer any one of them.

As he stood over Charles, his buried rage finally resurfaced and a thought occurred to him. Merlin thought about killing him, then and there. He had the power and the knowledge, Professor Slytherin had already taught him the killing curse in the chamber. All he needed now was the motivation and he had plenty of that. He let his festering anger fuel his desire to end Charles’s life. But there was something else that seemed to be driving him to do it. He felt a kind of rush merely at the thought of killing the helpless boy before him. Merlin couldn’t be absolutely certain but he thought he could hear a voice whispering in the back of his mind. “Do it. You know you want to. Kill him and have your first taste of blood my son. _Kill him!_ ” At the moment Merlin raised his wand to do the deed he was stopped.

“Merlin! What are you doing!”

Merlin turned to find that Luke and Cadogan had pushed to the front of the crowd. They were gaping in horror at their friend and their horrified expressions snapped Merlin back to reality. He tore his gaze from them and looked down on Charles’s cowering form. Merlin dropped Charles’s wand which clattered to the floor. Merlin lowered his wand and looked at it and his own two hands, disbelieving and horrified at what he had nearly done. He had nearly killed another person, someone who used to be his _friend_ in cold blood. Merlin quickly stowed his wand and ran off. He ran and ran through the castle, dodging and avoiding students and professors until he finally came to the entrance to Slytherin’s chamber of secrets.

Merlin hadn’t even thought about doing it, he’d just done it. He needed a place where he could be truly alone for a while and the only place he could think of was the chamber, a chamber that no one besides he and Slytherin knew about. Merlin didn’t even think about how he would get in since he needed to speak parseltongue to open it. Nevertheless, Merlin went there and to his surprise he was able to open the chamber. In hindsight, Merlin guessed it had to do with the druid’s lessons on listening to and understanding the many tongues of the natural world. He’d just eventually come to understand the language of snakes, even if only partially, the way he’d come to understand the languages of the flora of the world.

Merlin didn’t really know how long he remained hidden in the chamber, illuminated only by his wandlight. He sat staring at his reflection in a pool of water in the tunnel that led to the actual chamber. Eventually Professor Slytherin found him. “We looked all over the school for you Merlin. I suspected that you might come here but how you managed to enter is beyond me, unless you’re a parselmouth like I am.”

“I’m not,” Merlin replied solemnly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve just heard you do it enough times that I guess I managed to do it on my own.”

“Hmm,” Professor Slytherin said, sounding unconvinced and somewhat intrigued at Merlin’s claimed abilities at the same time.

“Professor,” Merlin said. “I almost killed him.”

Professor Slytherin’s only reply was a small frown that Merlin could see reflected in the pool.

“I’ve been sitting here Professor, looking at my reflection. Do you know what I see?”

“Yourself?” the professor offered.

“Yes... And no. I see someone who looks like me, who talks like me. We have the same eyes, skin, hair... But I don’t recognize him. I don’t recognize the person I’ve become. My whole world was turned upside down last summer and now it seems I’ve followed. I don’t like it Professor, I don’t like it at all. I don’t know if you know Professor, but my father, the one whose blood runs through my veins... Well he was an evil man. He killed just because he could, because he wanted to. He found it enjoyable. I almost killed Charles because of that. Because it felt good to be powerful for once.

“But I don’t like what it’s done to me Professor. Someone once warned me to be wary of powerlust because power corrupts. I see what he meant now and I think that I’ve had enough power Professor.” Merlin stood up and turned to face the professor. “Professor, I no longer wish to continue our lessons. I hope you understand and don’t think any less of me.” Despite the disappointment that Professor Slytherin undoubtedly felt at having lost someone he considered to be like a second son, his second chance at being a father, there was also understanding in his face.

“I understand Merlin,” Slytherin replied.

“Thank you Professor.” With that, Merlin proceeded to leave the chamber leaving Professor Slytherin standing alone in the darkness, his head bowed as a single tear trickled down his cheek.


	9. Redemption

# Redemption

The following day Merlin approached Charles and attempted to apologize. Of course, as Merlin expected, Charles wasn’t very receptive. “Piss off,” he spat. “You’re a bleeding madman.” Charles made sure to avoid Merlin after that even going so far as to change dorm rooms. Others around the school also changed their behavior toward him. They eyed him with suspicion or were excessively deferential toward him, a behavior which was no doubt spawned by the rumors of his abilities and instability that had spread through the school like wildfire in the short amount of time that had passed since the incident in the entrance hall. Though Merlin fully believed he deserved the new negative attitudes toward him, it left him feeling utterly alone with his guilt.

The only ones who didn’t start avoiding him, indeed, who had been trying to reconnect with him since the school year had started, were Luke and Cadogan. At dinner the day after the incident with Charles, Merlin was sitting alone at the end of the Slytherin table. All his other housemates were giving him a wide berth leaving several seats between them and Merlin. Luke and Cadogan seized their opportunity to finally confront their friend. Merlin made no attempt to keep them away this time. Cadogan sat immediately to Merlin’s right while Luke, requiring significantly more space for his seemingly continuously expanding frame, sat across from the two of them.

“Okay Merlin,” Cadogan started. “It’s time to talk. What’s been going on with you lately?”

“Yeah,” Luke interjected. “You’ve been avoiding all of us. Charles and Helena I can understand but us too? And you haven’t been eating normally, and then there was that thing with Charles last night.”

“Are you sure you want to know?” Merlin asked sulkily. “Are you sure you don’t just want to avoid crazy old Merlin like everyone else?”

“Merlin,” Cadogan replied. “We’re your friends. We know something’s been wrong with you since you got back and we know it’s not just about Helena and Charles. We want to help.”

Merlin let out a long sigh as he contemplated whether or not to open up to Luke and Cadogan. For a moment, he considered just getting up and leaving, but then he realized that these two really _were_ his friends and that he would just be hurting them by leaving. He also realized that he really _did_ need help and that they just might be able to provide it. Before he could think of anything else that might stop him he unloaded all his baggage onto Luke and Cadogan. He told them about his mother’s death, the plague on Argentia, the potential invasion. He left out only those things which he could scarcely admit to himself, like how he’d indirectly caused the death of Arthur’s mother, and of course the druid who had sworn him to secrecy. When he had finished, Cadogan and Luke were looking at him aghast.

“Well no wonder you’ve been off,” Cadogan finally said. “If I’d been through that I probably would have gone _completely_ off my wand.”

“So you don’t blame me? For what I’ve done?”

“Yes,” Luke replied. “We do, but we also understand why it happened. Your first mistake was not asking for help sooner.” Merlin bowed his head in shame. “But on the bright side, you didn’t actually _kill_ Charles, and we’re here to help now, even if it means just sticking with you. Supporting you.”

This prompted Merlin to chuckle slightly under his breath as a slight grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “There’s that Hufflepuff loyalty.”

“And don’t forget Gryffindor courage,” Cadogan butted in. “We’re kind of sticking our necks out on this one. If we start hanging out with you again we’ll no doubt be shunned by everyone else, just like you are.”

“Between those and Slytherin cunning and fraternity, no one’ll stop us.” Luke finished jokingly.’

Merlin smiled weakly at his friends. “I don’t deserve you guys.”

“No,” Cadogan replied. “You don’t, but you need us and we won’t abandon you.” After a few moments of silence Cadogan spoke up again, “Come on, finish your dinner and let’s be off, I know just the thing to cheer you up.”

“What’s that?” Merlin asked.

At Cadogan’s mischievous grin Luke’s face fell, “Oh no.”

“Why some good old fashioned mischief of course. It’ll be like old times again, minus Charles and Helena that is.”

“You’re not dragging me in on this one,” Luke said, wagging his finger at Cadogan.

“You’re right, we’re not,” Cadogan replied. “But that’s because you’ll come anyway, after all, you’ve got that Hufflepuff loyalty.”

Luke merely grumbled at this, fully aware that Cadogan was right.

The following morning as the students filed into the Great Hall for breakfast, the trio stood waiting against one of the side doors to the chamber. This time they really had outdone themselves and Merlin and Cadogan were waiting with eager anticipation of the grand finale while Luke glanced about nervously hoping that no one would notice. Once breakfast was well underway it happened. The three had clustered next to the door because they wanted front row seats for the show but at the same time, they didn’t want to accidentally become part of the show. The three watched as a figure clad in gaudy and rather ridiculous clothing came floating into the Great Hall chucking small beans into people’s goblets. Luke had stolen the beans from the kitchens and Cadogan had enchanted them to explode especially for this purpose. Merlin had used his considerable skills to summon a poltergeist, though with hundreds of other noisy and mischievous children living in the castle it hadn’t been a considerably difficult task. He’d only needed to give the natural progression of things a little push. One by one the poltergeist, whom Merlin had named Peeves, chucked the beans into people’s drinks and one by one they exploded, showering the entire hall and everyone in it with everything from water to pumpkin juice.

As the Great Hall burst into chaos with students and professors running about trying to either escape or control the situation, the trio burst into hysterical laughter. Only once Peeves had made his way to the table nearest them and started chucking beans into those goblets did the three stop and escape through the side door, narrowly avoiding being drenched in morning beverages themselves. In that moment, Merlin felt more alive and whole than he had since he’d been arrested by Uther in Camelot. Though the feeling eventually subsided, this one little shenanigan, and the knowledge that he was not alone but did have friends he could rely on, had been enough to cure him of his funk, and though life never really returned to normal for Merlin, he was able to cope with the changes.

The rest of that year went by as smoothly as could have been expected. Merlin, Luke, and Cadogan spent more time together than they ever had and though Cadogan had been right in that they would all become pariahs, ostracized by their fellow students, Cadogan and Luke didn’t seem to mind and Merlin minded their shared isolation from the other students less than he had before. They had each other and that was what was important. Of course Merlin never forgot that he still couldn’t return home, but he took comfort in the thought that Arthur would eventually be able to help him return.

When Merlin returned to the druid that summer, his disposition and motivations were greatly changed from before the school year had started and his master could see that plainly. The druid continued Merlin’s training which now went much more smoothly. Merlin now paid even more attention to what he believed were the most important parts of the druid’s lessons. These were the lessons on the nature of power, morality, and how people should live with one another. Though Merlin did not agree with all of what his master said, he could at least understand it and it helped him to keep from straying back down the path he had nearly taken the year before, the path of power and violence.

When the summer finally drew to a close, the druid and Merlin had their final exchange. “You’ve grown quite a lot since you left me a year ago Merlin,” he commented. “As a person, you’re better than you were.”

“Thanks to you Master,” Merlin replied.

“No, not entirely at least. True, I helped but you had a choice, to continue as you were, angry and thirsting for vengeance, or to change your perspective. You also had friends who helped you along. You’re training with me is finished Merlin.”

“But I’ve so much left to learn from you. I’ll return again next summer, just as I did this summer.”

“No, you won’t. It’s time for you to move on Merlin, and me as well. I’ve taught all I can teach you, though it is true that my knowledge still far outstrips yours, our destinies diverge here.” The druid looked Merlin in the eye now, “I am dying Merlin. Though I am in perfect health, I know my time has come. Tomorrow morning when you leave, you may try to find me, but I shall be gone, returned to the earth.” Merlin didn’t really believe the man until he saw it with his own eyes the following morning. He awoke earlier than usual and early enough to catch his master striding out of his hut and toward the stream that ran through the hideout. For a moment he just stood there. Then he turned to Merlin with a fatherly smile, “It’s been a pleasure teaching you Merlin and I have hope that my success with you shall redeem all my previous failures. I must now bid thee goodbye.” With that the druid simply vanished and in his place stood an oak sapling, now growing on the banks of the stream. The sight reminded him very much of when he witnessed Gorlois finally cross the veil but instead of feeling dejected and lonely, he felt a kind of peaceful happiness.

He strode over to the sapling and said to it, “I’m glad you’ve found your peace Master Cathad.” Shortly after, Merlin left the hidden dwelling in the cliffs, never to return again.

***

Merlin’s final year at Hogwarts began with an unexpected turn of events. Merlin had just taken his lonely seat at the Slytherin table after a brief chat with Cadogan and Luke when the first years began filing in. Merlin took note that Peeves, true to form, was pestering them and calling them “ickle firsties” something that he’d apparently thought up over the summer. Merlin couldn’t help but smile humorously at the poltergeist who discreetly returned the smile. At first the sorting proceeded as usual. The hat sang its song, and the first years took their seats at their tables one by one. Then, Professor Gryffindor, now wearing his much dreaded spectacles, called “Mulryan, Mordred.” A peaked boy who Merlin thought looked remarkably like Professor Slytherin walked up to the stool and sat as the hat was placed on his head. To begin with, things appeared as if they would proceed normally and the boy would get sorted like everyone else. When the hat announced Slytherin, however, there was much commotion at the Slytherin table and even the professor seemed surprised. “But he’s muggleborn!” one of the other Slytherin students shouted. “What’s a kid from the gens non magica doing in our house?” another called. Pretty soon the entire table was in an uproar which prompted Professor Ravenclaw to cast a silencing charm over them.

“That hat has spoken,” she called, magically amplifying her voice. “Muggleborn or not you will accept him into your house, is that understood?” With that she removed the silencing charm and the Slytherin table quieted down into disgruntled grumbling. The young Mordred walked over to the table in search of a seat but no one welcomed him the way they had the others. Merlin had known that Professor Slytherin and a number of the students in his house were opposed to the presence of children without any magical parentage in the school, but he never imagined that it was so extreme that they would ostracize them completely. On the one hand he could see their rational concerns that, having been brought up in a culture that violently opposed witchcraft, they might not be trustworthy. On the other hand, they hadn’t even given the poor kid a chance to prove he could be trusted. Merlin remembered back to when he had gone through London with Professor Slytherin in search of more students to bring to the school. A number of the prospective students had been born into the gens non magica and Merlin remembered that the parents of these children had either flat out denied their children’s magical abilities or had been inclined to reject their own offspring entirely and burn them at the stake. If Mordred was muggleborn and had come to Hogwarts, Merlin reasoned that there were three possibilities with regards to him. First, Mordred had been rejected by his parents and had chosen to come anyway in which case it was highly unlikely he would have any sympathies for those of the gens non magica who were deeply prejudiced against him and his kind. Second, Mordred’s parents were accepting of magic, in which case he was even less the threat the other Slytherins thought him to be. Third, he wasn’t born of the gens non magica at all and that his being so was simply one of those vicious rumors. No matter how Merlin looked at it, the unwillingness of his fellow housemates to accept their newest addition was unjustified.

Still, Mordred continued down the table looking for a place to sit without finding one. Eventually he came to Charles who, still apparently deeply incensed by Merlin from the previous year, commented harshly, “Why don’t you go sit back there with Mad Merlin _mudblood_.” The boy looked in Merlin’s direction and Merlin offered what he hoped was a welcoming smile and a wave.

Reluctantly, but apparently seeing he had few other options, Mordred made his way to Merlin’s lonely end of the table. When Mordred sat, Merlin introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Merlin, but you probably already guessed that considering your exchange with Charles.”

“Mad Merlin huh?” Mordred said. “Why ‘Mad’?”

“Well,” Merlin began uncertainly. “Last year I had some problems and I didn’t get them sorted quickly enough. I got into a fight with Charles and I guess it must have been pretty terrifying.”

“Was it a good one?” Mordred asked.

“Not really,” Merlin replied. “He barely got his first spell off before I beat him in front of practically the whole school. If you ask around I’m sure people will tell you about it.”

“I want to hear it from you though, since no one else seems to like me much.”

Merlin looked Mordred in the eye. “Well like I said, I had some problems that I was dealing with, or more accurately _not_ dealing with. I nearly killed Charles, and I guess everyone else who saw must have known.

“Anyway, nothing to fear now. I’m much better but they won’t let me live it down. Of course, I understand if you don’t want to associate with me either. _I_ wouldn’t want to associate with me but I don’t really have much of a choice do I?”

“No, I don’t suppose you do. If you say you’re better then I’ll take your word for it. Especially since it looks like you’re not a complete pariah among the sane at this school.” At Merlin’s look of confusion Mordred clarified, “I saw you with two other guys who looked to be your friends. The fat one and the guy I met earlier with the troll whisker wand. Unless they’re as loony as you are.”

“Oh you mean Luke and Cadogan. No, they’re sane. Well, except for the fact that they’ve committed social suicide by insisting on sticking with me.”

“Then I guess I’ll stick with you too since socially, I’m already an outcast at least in this house.”

Merlin looked the boy over curiously. Merlin found it odd that Mordred didn’t seem to mind the revelation that Merlin had gone off his wand and nearly killed someone the previous year. He also seemed somewhat familiar but Merlin couldn’t figure out where he’d seen the boy before. Merlin decided to push the thoughts from his mind for the time being and instead chose to inquire about the boy’s family, “So your parents are from the gens non magica are they?”

“Depends what you mean by parents,” Mordred replied. “The ones who took care of me are, but my blood relatives were magical.”

“Oh, were you adopted or something then?” Merlin realized only too late that what he’d said might have been somewhat rude but Mordred didn’t seem to mind.

“Kidnapped’s more like it,” Mordred replied bitterly. “Apparently my parents were a witch and wizard living in the village where I was raised. My adoptive parents, as part of a mob of villagers, invaded their home and burned them at the stake. They took me in to save me from their ‘devil worship’ as they put it.

“You know how sometimes we’ll manifest magic before we get our wands and start learning proper spells and the like? Well every time I’d do that they’d punish me. Try to ‘whip the devil out of me’ as they put it. I got the worst of it when they caught me talking to snakes for the first time.”

As Mordred spoke an idea began to form in Merlin’s mind, calling upon a memory from just before the start of his first year at the school when Professor Slytherin had been taking him on the journey north from London. “You’re from Hibernia right?” Merlin asked.

“Yeah, why? Is that significant or something?” Mordred could tell that Merlin’s mind was turning.

“It might be,” Merlin replied. “I need to think it over a bit more.”

Now it was Mordred’s turn to look Merlin over curiously. “Anyway,” he continued, “when they found out that magic wasn’t some sort of devil worship, that it was inborn, not chosen, they tried to deny it. Eventually, they gave up and chose to try and burn me too. But I ran, and I came here.”

They continued to talk through the rest of dinner and when it was finally over, Merlin introduced Mordred to Luke and Cadogan. Over the following days, the four became pretty close friends though Merlin noticed that Mordred always seemed a little bit off. Sometimes, Merlin thought his behavior was less of a genuine action on his part and more of an imitation, as if he were a highly sophisticated Archimedean automaton. Of course this didn’t particularly bother Merlin as he just dismissed the small and occasional oddities of Mordred’s behavior as mere quirks of his personality.

As he continued to get to know the first year, Merlin became more and more convinced of his theory and he finally set out to prove it. Merlin snuck into the restricted section of the library one night, which was a piece of cake for him owing to his skill with charms, especially those pertaining to concealment. Merlin pored over dusty old books searching for a means by which he might prove his theory. He had already been through the non-restricted section in search of a method by which he might do this but had come up with nothing.

Just as he was about to give up, he found what he was looking for. “ _Sanguinas Veritas_ ,” Merlin read to himself. It was a fairly complex ritual involving both incantations and potions, as well as the blood of the people the performer intended to test. Merlin decided that he wouldn’t be able to memorize the whole thing so he duplicated the relevant pages and returned the book to its place on the shelf before sneaking back out of the library and into his room.

The following morning he gathered Mordred, Luke, and Cadogan together in the library for a secret meeting. To ensure they weren’t overheard, Merlin cast the _verbum confunderi_ charm around them. “So I snuck into the restricted section last night,” Merlin told them.

“When don’t you sneak into the restricted section?” Cadogan replied jokingly.

“Cadogan, this is serious,” Merlin returned. “Anyway, I’ve had this theory about you Mordred, and your parents.” Merlin took Mordred’s quizzical look to be a sign to continue, “When I first came to Hogwarts, it was Professor Slytherin who brought me and he told me a story about how in the village where he lived, a mob of the gens non magica broke into his home and dragged him and his wife out by force before they could defend themselves. In the process his wife was killed and then burned at the stake. He was also to be burned but he escaped while making it look like he’d perished. He also told me that they’d kidnapped his one year old son. This happened _eleven_ years ago.”

“So what, you think that Professor Slytherin’s my dad?” Mordred asked incredulously.

“Well now that you mention it,” Luke began, “he is from Hibernia, just like you.”

“Yes, and when you were telling me about how your adoptive parents would beat you for your magic, you mentioned that you could talk to snakes. Now that’s a pretty rare gift, even among wizards and it’s usually hereditary,” Merlin continued. “Professor Slytherin is also a parselmouth.”

“Now that I think about it,” Cadogan interjected. “You and the professor do look quite a lot alike.”

“Okay guys,” Mordred interrupted. “I understand you’re getting all excited about this but it’s easily possible that he’s not my dad. And even if he was, why would I want to know? It’s not like he came back for me. He just ran.”

“And he told me that was one of his biggest regrets. He also said that the reason he didn’t run and look for you after it was all over was that he had no idea where to look. He figured that whoever kidnapped you had either killed you too or they’d taken you far away so he would never find you.”

“So I should forgive him? Sounds like he was just a coward for leaving his son. Also, you’re still assuming that I am, in fact, his son.”

“I’m getting to that. You see, that’s why I was in the restricted section last night. I was looking for a way to prove my theory, and I found one.” Merlin drew out the pages he’d duplicated and laid them on the table for his friends to see. “This is how we can prove whether or not he’s your father.”

“Okay, so say he is my father,” Mordred replied. “Then what? What do I gain by knowing? If you ask me we should just leave it be.”

Merlin closed his eyes sighed before looking Mordred in the eye. “Mordred. He may not have been there for you and believe me, I have a little bit of experience with not having a father. Sure I’ve had plenty of father figures but I’ve never actually known the man whose seed brought me into existence. I’ve known that he was an altogether unsavory and evil character but I’ve never known him.

“You on the other hand, have only had parents who I think you’ll agree were outright abusive. I can tell you now that I empathize and that it would be good for you to have your _real_ father back. Furthermore, I know for a _fact_ that Professor Slytherin regrets what he did, or rather failed to do. He’d take his son back any day. Finally, Mordred, you’ve got to face the fact that you can’t go back to your village when summer comes and you can’t stay here. You’re going to need someone.”

“Why can’t I just stay with you guys?”

“Well these two already have plans and I don’t exactly have a home myself,” Merlin replied. At the unconvinced look on Mordred’s face Merlin decided to reiterate what he thought was his strongest point, “Please Mordred. It’ll be good to finally have your father back and I know that Professor Slytherin wants his son back more than anything in the world.”

Mordred hesitated for a moment before reluctantly replying, “Fine, I’ll go along, but only if Professor Slytherin agrees too. No tricking him Merlin.”

Merlin sighed. “You drive a hard bargain Mordred,” he replied jokingly. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him after classes today.”

That night as Merlin approached Professor Slytherin’s office, he could hear arguing through the closed door. He could clearly make out Professors Slytherin and Gryffindor’s voices. “I won’t stand for it Godric!” Slytherin shouted. “I do not, I cannot share your love for the muggleborns and you call them. They are dangerous and not to be trusted.”

“Why Salazar? Why this constant prejudice--”

“Prejudice? You think this is _just_ prejudice? My friend you have not experienced the gens non magica as I have. They are violent and evil. How can we be sure of the loyalties of those who though born with magic, are born into the gens non magica? I have tolerated them being allowed into the other houses but I will not tolerate them in mine, your hat chose wrong!”

“The hat is never wrong,” Gryffindor replied evenly.

Slytherin scoffed at this, “You and your arrogance.”

“Salazar, I won’t do this with you tonight. Just let it be.” Merlin could now hear heavy footfalls coming toward the door.

“That’s right Godric,” Slytherin snapped. “Turn and run like the coward you are!”

The footfalls stopped. “You mean like the coward who ran and left his only son at the mercy of the violent and untrustworthy muggles?”

Dead silence. Merlin could tell, even through the door that Professor Gryffindor had struck a nerve. “Good night Salazar,” he said finally. “I hope to find you in a more agreeable mood in the morning.” With that the door opened and the large red haired professor stepped out. “Ah, young Master Ambrosius,” he said upon seeing Merlin. “I would wait until tomorrow to speak with the professor, he’s not been in a good mood this night.”

Despite Professor Gryffindor’s warning, Merlin stepped into Professor Slytherin’s office. “Professor,” he began cautiously.

The professor looked up at him. “Ah yes Merlin, what is it you need?”

“Well. It’s a little complicated and it might take a while.”

“Go ahead, I have some time tonight.”

“Well, it’s about Mordred, and you.”

Slytherin frowned at this. “Did Godric send you in? Did he think that maybe he could use my star pupil against me?”

“No Professor, not at all, it’s not like that. I came on my own.”

“So you’ve betrayed me?”

“What?” Merlin was utterly confused by the look on the professor’s face as well as his accusation. “No, Professor, please just hear me out.”

Slytherin firmed his jaw and then spoke again, “Very well, speak.”

“I think that Mordred is your son Professor, and I’d very much like your permission to prove my theory.” Merlin proceeded to tell the professor of the whole reasoning behind his theory and how he planned to prove it once and for all. When he was finished Slytherin looked at Merlin thoughtfully.

“Why do you want to do this Merlin?” Slytherin asked.

“Because Professor, Mordred has nowhere to go. He’s been abused all his life for being magical and he’s never known his real father whom I believe to be you. And I _know_ how badly you’ve wanted a second chance. You thought that I was that second chance for the longest time. Until last year that is, when the... incident happened. But I think that _this_ is your second chance. If he really is your son Professor, then you can have him back and he can have his father back.”

“I’m not buying it Merlin, Mordred’s parents are non magical. He is born of the gens non magica, no matter what lies he’s told you.”

“If that’s true,” Merlin replied, “then you have nothing to fear by going through with our plan. Really, even if it’s false and he is your son, then you still have nothing to fear. You lose nothing by doing this Professor and have the possibility to gain back what you lost all those years ago.” Merlin let that last statement hang in the air between them for a moment.

Finally Slytherin replied, “Very well, we will perform your test, here, in my office. I shall inform people that I will not have office hours tomorrow evening. Gather what you need and bring it here. I would very much like to observe the ritual to ensure that it is performed properly.”

“Thank you Professor, you won’t regret this.”

As Merlin left he heard Slytherin mutter to himself, “I certainly hope not.”

The following evening, Merlin and his cadre of friends arrived at Professor Slytherin’s office with everything they needed, including the cauldron. Luke and Cadogan helped Merlin prepare the potion while Professor Slytherin sat to the side carefully observing the three students before him. Mordred sat awkwardly next to him, not sure how to speak with the man who had rejected him as a muggleborn and who might yet be his father. Finally, the potion was prepared and the cauldron bubbled lightly as it sat over the magically conjured flame. “Okay, now I’ll just need a little bit of blood from each of you,” Merlin said. “Luke, could you please fix them up after Cadogan’s gotten it?” Luke and Cadogan did as they were told and brought Merlin a small vial that contained a mixture of both Professor Slytherin’s and Mordred’s blood. Merlin held it over the cauldron and began incanting in a long forgotten language with his wand tip pointed at the bubbling solution. Finally, he inverted the vial of blood and it all poured into the cauldron. Now there was nothing but to wait. For a few moments there was nothing, but eventually, red steam began to issue from the opening of the cauldron.

Merlin couldn’t help but look at Professor Slytherin with satisfaction. “Well Professor, I’m pretty sure I did everything right, you’re the father.” The look of surprise mingled with elation on the professor’s face said it all.

Of course Merlin never expected Mordred and Slytherin to hit it off immediately, but eventually, the two acknowledged fully and publicly that they were, in fact related. This did more than ease tensions between Mordred and the rest of Slytherin house. In fact he became something of a celebrity among them now, though he was always careful never to let it go to his head, remembering full well the welcome he’d received from them not so long ago. Even Merlin and his other friends became less eschewed by the rest of the school when it came to light that they helped Professor Slytherin find his long lost son. Of course, Merlin was still called by the nickname “Mad Merlin” but the epithet now had less bite to it. By the end of the year, things were really looking up again.

Immediately after the graduation ceremony, Merlin and Luke went into the crowd of other students in search of Cadogan and Mordred. “So what are your plans now?” Merlin asked Mordred when they finally reunited.

“Well, I’m going to be living with Professor Slytherin, I mean dad now,” he replied. “I’m still getting used to it.”

“That’s fine,” Luke replied. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re extremely happy for you.”

“What about you guys?” Mordred asked.

“Well,” Cadogan began, “I’m going back home as I’ve still got one more year so I’ll probably be seeing you next year. These two, on the other hand...”

“We’re planning on doing a little traveling,” Merlin replied. “Luke’s idea. He’s always wanted to join the church, which I think is madness on his part but oh well. Anyway, he figures it’s probably a good idea to get out there and experience as much as possible before he locks himself away and devotes himself to a life in service of his god.”

“I think you mean God, Merlin,” Luke corrected. “One of these days I will convert you.”

“I doubt it very much,” Merlin replied with a smirk. “But the plan was to start out in Wales so we’re following Cadogan home before we set out in earnest.”

Merlin and Luke left with Cadogan later that day and soon they were on their way to Wales. When they finally arrived in Cadogan’s hometown, however, they were greeted by a sight they did not expect. Planted firmly in the town square was a flag which bore a white dragon on a background of black. Soldiers wearing similar symbols patrolled the streets. The three of them recognized this for what it was, an occupation. The three wizards tread carefully through the town until they finally arrived at Cadogan’s home. Cadogan knocked on the front door which opened shortly afterward to reveal an elderly woman who looked very much like Cadogan. “Cadfael!” she exclaimed. “I told you not to come back, you’re in danger here.”

“What? When did you say this mother?” Cadogan asked clearly as surprised by this revelation as he was by the fact that his home was now under occupation by foreign invaders.

“Why, in my last letter that I sent out not a month ago.” At Cadogan’s quizzical look she said, “It must have been intercepted. Quick come in all of you before we draw too much attention from the soldiers.”

“Thank you mother,” Cadogan replied as he stepped in allowing Luke and Merlin to follow. “Mother, this is Luke Pantaleon, and the Prince of Charms himself Merlin Ambrosius.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Merlin and Luke greeted simultaneously.

“It would be more pleasurable if there weren’t an army outside our door,” Mrs. Cadogan grumbled. “Sit,” she commanded, gesturing toward a small table in the middle of the room.

“Where’s dad?” Cadogan asked.

“He’s working at the docks. The soldiers have had him inspecting ships since they arrived. So you’re Myrddin Emrys,” she said seating herself across from Merlin.

“Um, Myrddin Emrys?” Merlin asked.

“It’s how we say your name in Welsh,” Cadogan clarified before returning to the subject of his father. “What do they have father inspecting ships for?”

“It’s because of those rebels. That’s the whole reason they came here, at least that’s what they say. The Empress Morgana of Argentia wants to put an end to that rebellion and she claims that Wales is its source. She’s invaded several coastal towns now but let’s just say that she bit off a bit more than she could chew. She wanted to stop a rebellion. Well. By invading us she only made it bigger. I’ll just be glad when it’s all over.”

“Sorry,” Merlin interrupted. “Did you say _Empress Morgana_? Of _Argentia_?”

Mrs. Cadogan muttered something in Welsh to Cadogan which prompted Merlin’s friend to reply, “Mother please. Merlin speaks many languages but Welsh isn’t one of them. And yes, he’s plenty smart he just wants to be sure he heard you right.”

“Yes Emrys,” Mrs. Cadogan finally replied. “Apparently she--”

“Seized Camelot and then conquered the whole island after it had been devastated by plague,” Merlin interrupted.

Mrs. Cadogan was taken aback at this but Merlin didn’t take notice, his mind was reeling recalling flashes of memory from two years prior. Recalling the circumstances under which he’d left his home and returning to his only partially remembered yet seemingly prophetic dreams. “Yes, actually,” Mrs. Cadogan replied but Merlin wasn’t listening. He reached into his pocket where he still kept the small vial of water from the Lake of Avalon. He hadn’t used it at all since he’d gotten it, but now he was certain that he needed to use it more than ever. He needed to know if his dreams meant what he now feared they meant. Most importantly, he needed to know what he had to do next.

“Cadogan,” he said to his friend. “Do you mind if I borrow your room for a while?”

“Um, I guess not why--”

Merlin didn’t give Cadogan time to finish but got up and strode for the bedroom that he could easily identify as Cadogan’s. As Merlin pushed open the door and stepped in he heard Mrs. Cadogan speak in Welsh again to her son who replied, “Of course he’s alright in the head mum.” He then added to himself as he rose to follow Merlin, “I hope.”

When Cadogan entered the room, Merlin sat on his bed holding the vial. “Merlin what’s going on?”

Merlin looked Cadogan in the eye before telling him the whole story of the Lady of the Lake and the vial of water. Cadogan didn’t really believe him at first but he understood that there had always been some things that he couldn’t explain or understand about Merlin. “So you plan on drinking that magic water?”

“I have to Cadogan,” Merlin replied. “Well, bottoms up.” Merlin broke the seal on the vial and downed the water. In a matter of seconds, Merlin began feeling drowsy and eventually collapsed on the bed.

The dreams returned. This time clearer than ever before and Merlin was certain that he would now be able to remember every last detail of them. First there was the dream of the woman and the dragons. Merlin was now absolutely certain that this woman was Morgana. After that dream ended, there was the dream of Arthur at the camp of men just outside Camelot. At the end of this dream, Arthur spoke the words Merlin remembered so well from the last time he’d had this dream with such clarity that it was as if they were being played as part of a symphony by a great and skilled orchestra. Arthur said, “Help me Merlin. Help me free our home.”


	10. Myrddin Wyllt

# Myrddin Wyllt

It was already past dark when Merlin awoke. He could hear Luke and Cadogan in the next room muttering about him with Cadogan’s family. When Merlin emerged from his friend’s bedroom, it was to the surprised stares of the entire Cadogan family and his friend Luke. “Look, Merlin,” Luke began as he stood up from his hair.

“There isn’t time,” Merlin interrupted. “I’ve got to tell you about my visions.”

“You mean your dreams,” Mr. Cadogan spoke up. “Boy, I’m not sure what your problem is but whatever it is you need to get it sorted out.”

“I’m not crazy,” Merlin replied with conviction. “I take it then you know about my dreams and all that?”

“We know what you think they are,” Luke replied.

“They _are_ prophecies Luke,” Merlin insisted. “And I know what they were about. They’re about now, what’s happening in Argentia that has spilled over to Wales.” Merlin’s statement was greeted by skeptical looks from all around.

“Look, believe me or don’t believe me, but I know what I must do now.”

“And what’s that boy?” Mr. Cadogan asked.

Merlin gave his friend’s father a short glare to indicate that he didn’t much appreciate being called “boy” but the man gave no sign that he cared. “I have to free my home.”

“You’re talking about taking on Morgana’s empire!” Mrs. Cadogan exclaimed. “That’s suicide!”

“Is it though?” Merlin asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Cadogan replied firmly. “In just two years that witch has conquered all of Argentia and several Welsh port cities. As soon as she’s dispensed with this rebellion, she’ll move on to the entirety of the British Isles and beyond. She cannot be stopped. She is too powerful.”

“You don’t know that,” Merlin replied. “As long as there are people willing and able to resist there is still a chance.”

“Then you are a fool.”

For a moment silence hung heavy in the room like a thick fog. Eventually, Cadogan broke the silence, “Father, while there may be little chance of success, does that really mean that we should just roll over and let her win?”

“Now don’t you start,” Mr. Cadogan snapped. “This doesn’t even concern you.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Cadogan exclaimed. “Father, this is our home and she’s conquered it. This is as much our fight as it is Merlin’s. Yeah, he might have some crazy ideas about prophecies but--”

“No,” Mr. Cadogan interrupted. “You will not join him. This is not our fight.” Now Mr. Cadogan turned to Merlin, “And you. I will not have you dragging my son into this. Just who do you think you are? You come here, as a guest in _my_ house and start talking about rebellion as if it’s something noble. People _die_ in rebellions boy. Are you prepared for that? Are you ready to watch the people beside you die for some abstract future they will never see? Can you _really_ ask other people to die for that future? Are you willing to _kill_ for it?”

Once again, uncomfortable silence pervaded the room before it was Cadogan who once again broke it, “Father, just because you do not have the courage to free our home doesn’t mean that I do not and if it helps free Merlin’s home then so be it.” With that Cadogan grabbed his pack, which he still had yet to empty and stood next to Merlin. “The way I see it, it is better that one should die fighting for his freedom than to live the rest of his days as a slave. Liberty or death father, those are the only two acceptable options I can see here.”

“But what about your schooling?” Mrs. Cadogan asked taking everyone else in the room aback for a moment. “You still must finish your final year at Hogwarts.”

“Mother,” Cadogan began, “don’t you think our liberty takes precedence over another year’s worth of classroom study and wand waving?”

“You’re fools, the both of you,” Mr. Cadogan spat, his expression hard. “Young man,” he said turning to Luke, “you seem to be the voice of reason for these two, why don’t you talk some sense into them.”

Luke for his part, was hesitant to reply. “Merlin, Cadogan, I’m not sure how much use I’d be in any rebellion. I’m not particularly skilled with combative magic and it’s not like I’m in any shape to be swinging swords at people,” he said as he poked his midsection with a slight chuckle. “And it really isn’t my fight. After all, I’m English, not Welsh or Argentian. But I said I’d stand by you and I’m pretty good with healing magic so...” Luke turned back to an aghast Mr. Cadogan before continuing, “No. If they’re being foolish I don’t think I’ll talk any sense into them because, well, I’m just as foolish.” With that Luke joined his friends.

“Bah!” Mr. Cadogan exclaimed. “You’re _all_ idiots then. Fine, go fight your fools’ rebellion. But if you want to commit suicide, you’ll not be doing it from my house. Now out! All of you!”

With that, the three of them left. As soon as they were out in the dark of the night, however, Cadogan burst out as if fully realizing what they'd just done, “My God, what have we done?”

”Shhh!” Merlin hushed. “We’re still in the city and in case you hadn't noticed it's not exactly the friendliest territory,” he whispered. “We’ll talk when we’re out of town.”

The three of them proceeded in silence until they figured that they were safely away from prying eyes and unwanted listeners, they then sought out a secluded place to camp for the night. “Okay,” Merlin began once they had a fire going. “Now we need a plan.”

“Go back home and ask my father for forgiveness?” Cadogan replied sarcastically.

Merlin eyed his friend for a moment before speaking again. “Come on Cadogan. When in all the time I've known you, has your courage failed you?”

”Merlin, you of all people should know that there’s a difference between courage and foolhardiness. My father’s right, this is a task for fools if I ever saw one. We don't have a chance against this empire that seems to have cropped up _overnight,_ even Luke knows that. The only reason he came with us is he's loyal to us to a fault!”

“You’re partly right,” Luke replied, inserting himself into the conversation. “But I don't think it's foolhardy, we _do_ have a chance, even if it's a slim one. Besides, what ever happened to ‘liberty or death’?”

For a moment, silence hung in the dark between them. Finally, Merlin said, “It doesn't really matter now, we're pretty much committed. Our only two options now are to see this through or to turn tail and run.”

“Honestly,” Cadogan replied, “it's been a long day, why don't we just get some sleep and we can plan our rebellion in the morning.” Cadogan got no disagreement from this and as soon as Merlin had finished setting up the last of the protection charms, they snuffed out the fire and went to sleep.”

The planning, however, never came. Day after day the three of them hid in their campsite. Merlin continued to try to impress upon his friends the need to plan their next moves and to galvanize them to action as his sense of urgency grew, but his efforts were in vain. The dreams Merlin noticed, had started coming more frequently now and with each night their predictions grew more dire. Merlin guessed that this was the side effect of the vial the Lady of the Lake had given him. Disturbing as the dreams were, he knew he could not avoid them. So he took to writing them down immediately after they happened.

Eventually, tensions started to grow high between the friends as food supplies started to run short and it had been over a week without any action taken to fulfill their original purpose. It was Cadogan who snapped first. “We're running low on food,” Luke had commented. “We should probably figure out how to get more.”

“Well, maybe if you weren't such a pig we’d still have some,” Cadogan snapped at him.

”Lay off him,” Merlin butt in. “Even if he didn't eat as much as he does we’d have run out of food sooner or later.”

“Now don't you start!” Cadogan retorted. “If it wasn't for you we wouldn't be in this mess!”

“Well,” Merlin said, getting to his feet and drawing up to his full height as his own anger rose. “No one forced you to come Cadogan. Perhaps you should have considered how difficult this would have been _before_ calling your father a coward and storming off with me and Luke.”

“I never called him a coward.”

“You may as well have. If you didn't think you could commit to this then you should have stayed behind and cowered at the mere mention of Empress Morgana, just like your father. I have tried over and over again to come up with a plan, to get this whole thing underway and yet you seem to want to stall everything. Time is wasting, every night I can see things getting worse for Arthur--”

“Oh that's right,” Cadogan interrupted. “You and your prophecies. And it's always Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. What about us Merlin? Are we just useful idiots to you? Are we just pawns you can use to help you save your _dear_ Arthur?”

For a moment Merlin couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stood there silently fuming but unable to give a reply, unable to speak his mind. Fortunately Luke, who still kept his temper, spoke what Merlin thought. “How can you even ask that?” he asked.

Cadogan turned to Luke in surprise. “What?” he asked.

“After all we’ve been through together Cadogan, how can you ask that?”

The relief of knowing that at least Luke understood and was on Merlin's side was quickly replaced by a gnawing doubt. What if he really was just using them? He’d fallen into obsessive and monomaniacal behaviors that caused him to ignore the effects of his actions on those around him before. What if it was happening again? Then he remembered that he had never asked either Cadogan or Luke to come with him. They’d come because they'd wanted to. Merlin's anger slowly began to return. Finally, after what seemed like hours of awkward silence but which was probably only a few moments, Merlin pivoted on his foot and began to stalk off.

“Now where are you going?” Cadogan asked angrily though Merlin thought he detected a hint of concern in his voice.

“To find more food!” Merlin called back angrily. “And maybe do something about the Empire while I'm at it.” With that Merlin stepped outside the magical barriers he’d erected around the campsite which promptly disappeared behind the concealment charms. Had it not been for Merlin's unusual sixth sense for magic, he wouldn't have been able to find his way back at all.

For a while Merlin simply stalked through the small wood they had hidden in. Eventually, though, he ventured out. When he did so, he discovered an army of Morgana’s soldiers on the move, presumably out to attack another Welsh town or even to engage the fully fledged rebellion Cadogan’s family had mentioned. Merlin observed them from a distance, making use of a variety of extra-sensory charms to better see and hear the marching army. He picked up pieces of their conversation and ascertained based on what they were saying and the language that they spoke, that the soldiers were mercenaries from the kingdom of Saxony in the HRE. Merlin observed their movements and their physical appearance and concluded that they had been marching for some time without much rest. The fact that they had no sorcerers to speak of made them all the easier to attack. But, Merlin hesitated. He knew that as good as he was, he wasn't likely to make a significant difference in their numbers and if he just wanted to raid them for supplies, he'd have very little chance of succeeding.

Still, Merlin was feeling rather impulsive and restless. He’d been sitting around for too long without any progress on his ultimate goal and his row with Cadogan had left him in the mood for some action. Firming up his resolve, Merlin drew his wand and was just about to rush the line of soldiers when a hand grabbed him from behind. Fearing he'd been caught, Merlin whipped around, ready to shoot off a spell when, to his surprise, he saw Cadogan holding his hand out placatingly with Luke standing close behind him.

“And just what the hell do you think you're doing?” Merlin snapped, making sure to keep his voice down to avoid detection by the moving soldiers.

“We could ask you the same thing,” Cadogan replied.

“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago.”

“Merlin, you’re not going to accomplish anything by being stupid.”

“That's right,” Merlin returned sarcastically. “Because I’m just an idiot going on a fools’ errand. But if I’m an idiot then what does that make you two for following me? But who cares right? After all, I’m just ‘Mad Merlin’.”

For a moment it looked like Cadogan was going to retort himself but he eventually gained control of himself again and let out a resigned sigh. “Look, Merlin. I know I was a complete ass back there but going and getting yourself killed isn't going to help things. You're right, I _did_ agree to help, so let me help. Let's go back to camp for a bit and come up with a plan.”

Merlin stood silently for a moment, forcing himself to do as his friend had and regaining control over his emotions. Finally he said, “There's no time. They’ll be miles away from here and ready to engage the rebels by morning. If we are to act then we have to act now.”

“Okay, fine. But we don't do anything stupid like trying to attack them head on. There's no way the three of us will be able to take out all of them. I say we just do a hit and run. Take some of their supplies and hightail it out of here.”

Merlin was about to protest that it wouldn't be enough, that the real rebellion would still be at a disadvantage, but Luke interrupted his thoughts before he could speak. “I know it probably won't win the day for the rebels Merlin, but it's still better than nothing. Better to live to fight another day than to die from your own foolhardiness.”

After a moment of hesitation, Merlin grudgingly nodded his assent. “So what's the plan?” he asked.

“That's on you mate,” Cadogan replied. “You're the clever tactician of the bunch.”

“Okay then,” Merlin began, hunkering down and turning back to the army, the end of which had nearly come into view. “It looks like Morgana, and whoever she has leading them, have them fighting like Romans. It's probably not quite what they're used to but it's still effective under the right circumstances and they probably don't care too much as long as they get paid.

“The trick would then be to target the supply wagons...” Merlin continued outlining his plan and explaining the army's weaknesses for a few more minutes until finally he was satisfied that Cadogan and Luke both knew their parts. Merlin would cause a distraction by attacking the rear section of the army. As the targets drew their attention away from their supplies, Cadogan and Luke would sneak up and prepare to start stealing supplies. Once there were few enough men guarding them, Luke and Cadogan would take as much as they could before running. Once their part of the assault had finished, they would send up green sparks to signal Merlin that it was time to go and he'd slip away using his “druid powers” as Cadogan put it.

Of course, almost as soon as they got started, the plan went wrong. The distraction went as planned, Merlin rapidly began disarming the soldiers which got their attention. Once they started pursuing him he pulled out every trick he had up his sleeve. He confunded the advancing soldiers and conjured puddles of water which he promptly froze over for the soldiers to slip on. Though Merlin found that he once again struggled with the more martial side of magic, he was able to call upon the forces of nature to aid him. The wind picked up, blowing the mercenaries’ arrows aside, the grasses curved to trip the soldiers as they stormed after Merlin.

Despite all this success, the distraction wasn't enough to keep Cadogan and Luke from being noticed and soon, the soldiers were scrambling back the other way to take back their supplies. What happened afterwards was a bit of a blur. Merlin really only remembered charging after the soldiers like a maniac and casting all sorts of spells at them. He also remembered the arrows flying at him and his friends and the hail storm of curses that Cadogan rained down in return. Eventually, Merlin saw the green sparks shoot up in the distance and he quickly fled.

When Merlin reached his friends he found that Cadogan had been hit with an arrow. Blood as red as his Hogwarts uniform gushed from a wound in his shoulder. “Cadogan!” Merlin exclaimed.

“Oh don't fuss over that,” his friend replied, “Luke’s got me covered, don’t you Luke?”

“Of course I do,” Luke replied somewhat shortly. “But it’ll be a while yet before you can use your wand arm again. We should have aborted as soon as you got hit.”

“And left empty handed? Not a chance.” Cadogan, Merlin noticed, seemed rather drunken with victory, despite the fact they'd had little impact on the army of Morgana’s forces and that he'd gotten a rather severe looking wound out of it.

Merlin couldn't help but remember that Mr. Cadogan had said to him just a week ago, “People _die_ in rebellions boy. Are you prepared for that?”

“Cadogan,” he began.

“No,” his friend interrupted. “I know what you're going to say and the reality is Merlin, you didn't ask us to come along for this, we chose to. I can't speak for Luke but _I_ at least knew the risks and if you think I'm going to quit now just because I got hit _once_ , then you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Very nice speech there Cadogan,” Luke said as he cinched down the bandage he'd put around his friend’s shoulder. “But you won't be doing any more fighting anytime soon and we need to be getting back to camp so I can treat you properly.” Now Luke turned to Merlin, “If you could show us the way Merlin, since we can't actually see it and you’ve got that sixth sense of yours...”

“Right, no problem,” Merlin replied as he moved to help Luke carry the bloodied Cadogan and the stolen supplies.

When they finally crossed the magical barriers guarding their camp, Merlin set to starting up a fire and organizing the rather abundant stolen supplies while Luke treated their injured friend. Merlin was amazed by how much they had actually managed to get and by the time they'd gotten everything and everyone sorted, the three of them were ready for a little celebration. Though they still conserved their resources, the merriment lasted past sundown. Cadogan and Luke told of their experience raiding the soldiers’ supplies and Merlin told of how he'd bested the soldiers without firing a single curse. This prompted Luke to jest that he didn't shoot off any curses because he was shit at them. “Tu quoque,” was Merlin's only response which prompted uproarious laughter from Cadogan.

Eventually the three of them settled down and Merlin's mind got to cranking on ideas for how they'd conduct future attacks. For quite some time the three discussed how best to harm the Empire in the dying firelight. They all agreed that the hit and run tactics were good but that they needed to plan such attacks better. Luke suggested using Merlin's way with nature to greater effect. They all agreed that this could be more easily done in the forests where Merlin could call on trees and woodland creatures to help, rather than just the winds and the grasses.

Over time, the concept evolved from simple hit and run to hit and make the _enemy_ run. It had been a silly offhand comment by Cadogan at first but Merlin realized that the idea was gold. If they could create a legend so terrifying that Morgana’s soldiers would flee at the sight of them, then it wouldn't take long for her mercenaries to leave her and then her empire would crumble. All it would take was some good planning, magical skill, and imagination to create a larger than life band of woodland demons.

Then Luke suggested that they do not three demons, but one and the other two would work things behind the scenes. “Why?” Merlin asked.

“Well,” Luke replied thoughtfully. “I suppose that it would be all the more terrifying if people thought that it was just _one_ person who could do all those things than if they knew it was three.” Luke then patted his large stomach and added, “Besides, I’m not so sure I’d make the troupe more terrifying, probably just make it somewhat comical if you catch my meaning.” All three of them chuckled at this remark.

Merlin could see his friend’s logic but the question of who would become this great demon was still unanswered. As though reading his thoughts, Cadogan answered Merlin's question. “I think it should be you,” he said to Merlin.

“Me?” Merlin asked incredulously. “Why me?”

“Well for one thing, it means we can get started sooner since I’ve still got to wait around a bit for my arm to heal up. But you're already pretty powerful so it’d be, you know, easier to pull off the whole scary, powerful demon thing.”

“That sentence kind of got away from you didn't it?” Luke said.

Though Luke jested, and Cadogan was clearly trying, and failing, to be tactful, Merlin knew the real reason Cadogan had suggested Merlin become the demonic character on the battlefields that were to be their theater stages and he had to admit that Cadogan had a point. “It's because of what I did to Charles, isn't it?” Merlin said. By the looks on his friends’ faces, he could tell both that he was right and that this was a subject they'd hoped never to have to discuss again and Merlin couldn’t blame them. “That's a part of me that I never wanted to revisit,” Merlin said. “But you're right.”

“Merlin, you don't have--” Luke began.

“No,” Merlin interrupted. “You two are willing to sacrifice everything for this. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't show at least as much commitment as you guys? I have to do it. After all, what's a little discomfort compared to Cadogan’s bloody arm.” While Merlin had been intending the last statement as a small joke the humor was lost on his friends.

“Okay then,” Cadogan finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen upon them. “Now we need a name for you.”

“Why?” Luke asked. “Why not just let the soldiers come up with one?”

“Because that takes power over the illusion and its effects away from us and gives it to them. If they get to name this demon then they might just give it some innocuous name,” Merlin replied. “My blood father, he didn't leave things to other people's imaginations. He made sure to choose names that, though simple, would strike fear into people.”

“So what do we name you? Merlin of the Wild?” Luke asked gesturing to the surrounding forest.

“Yeah,” Cadogan replied. “But not in their language, or yours. While you were passed out from that prophecy juice you drank Merlin, my father was talking about how the soldiers fear the forests because of Welsh spirits that supposedly live there. Morgana's started forcing them in anyway since that's where the rebels have been hiding but these mercenaries are absolutely terrified of all things Welsh. Think it’ll somehow curse them and their families for a thousand years. So we call you Merlin the Wild, but we do it in Welsh. We call you Myrddin Wyllt.”

Thus Myrddin Wyllt was born and over the next few days the three spent time preparing for their first act until they finally decided to give it a go. They tracked down a group of imperial soldiers who’d been sent to scour a nearby forest for any rebels in hiding. Merlin and his friends knew there were none but they saw this as a golden opportunity to test their plans. Merlin transfigured himself to look like an old and almost ghostly man. He grew out a long silver beard and mussed his now white hair. To complete the costume of a terrible Celtic woodland spirit, he donned robes very similar to the ones his druid teacher had once worn and a crown of deer antlers. Personally, Merlin thought the antlers were a little overboard but Cadogan, having a flair for the theatrical, had insisted and with a featherlight charm Merlin barely noticed them.

As the three finished with their preparations, having set up right in the path of the approaching soldiers, they heard the sounds of approaching feet and the clatter of armor and other equipment. Hurriedly, Cadogan and Luke took their places while Merlin quickly cast disillusionment charms on them. Merlin made sure to conceal himself as well, at least at first, though his method of concealment was rather different, relying on preventing others from noticing him rather than disappearing entirely.

As soon as the soldiers came into view, Merlin called out to them, his voice magically amplified and charmed to emanate, not from where he actually stood, but from all throughout the woods. His voice sounded terrifying, not simply because it echoed through the forest and inside people's skulls, but because it didn't sound like a human voice, at least not quite. The voice sounded like the trees and the grasses themselves were speaking. It bore the eerie quality of wind whistling through a dark wood. The fact that the sun had just vanished over the horizon made the spectacle all the better.

“You dare to disturb the sanctity of these lands?” Merlin called. “These are the lands of my people and you shall leave them if you wish to live! If you do not you shall die most painfully and your families shall be cursed for generations!”

Even the initial part of the act had the desired effect on most of the soldiers who had stopped dead in their tracks and glanced about themselves in terror, searching for the source of the voice. The man commanding them, however, seemed unphased. “Cower not you fools!” he shouted. “It is merely an illusion caused by some foul sorcery that seeks to keep us from our quarry. Steel yourselves for this surely means there are rebels in these woods.”

“Illusion?” Merlin boomed. “If this is nothing more than an illusion, then why do you not face me!” Merlin boomed. In that moment Merlin dropped the enchantment that concealed him and his appearance renewed the fear in the imperial troops. Even their commander was somewhat cowed by Merlin's appearance.

Still, the imperial commander attempted to maintain the facade of fearlessness. “Who are you? Identify yourself rebel sorcerer!”

“Sorcerer? I am no sorcerer! I am called many things but to the Celtic peoples of Wales and Argentia, I am the spirit Myrddin Wyllt, the wild guardian. This is your last warning, leav or face the consequences of your oppression!”

Fortunately for Merlin and his friends, the commander behaved exactly as they hoped he would. “Men, arrest this fool who thinks his tricks will save him and his rebel friends!”

As the soldiers, still torn between obeying commands and fleeing resolved to do the former, Merlin spoke again, “Very well, you have made your choice.” In a flash, the torches that the soldiers had lit for light in the dark were blown out leaving them all in utter darkness. Then, as quickly as the light had gone, it returned, but not to the torches. The army gaped in fear at the ghastly visage of Myrddin Wyllt, made all the more terrifying by the eerie golden glow that emanated from his eyes, casting horrific shadows on his face and around the forest. The army began to flee at the sight but it was too late. In a matter of seconds Cadogan, still concealed with the disillusionment charm shot out and started rapidly cursing the scattering soldiers one by one. The trees, responding to Merlin's commands, whipped their branches and twisted their roots to attack the troops. Wolves darted between the trees and thrashed the soldiers. To amplify the terror caused by the spectacle and the ensuing havoc, Merlin began casting emotive enhancement charms on the soldiers, distorting their already skewed perception of reality.

When it was finally over, the three of them made sure to let a few of the soldiers escape to spread the tale of Myrddin Wyllt throughout the ranks of Morgana's soldiers. Lightning their wands and undoing all the illusions the three had conjured for their battle, it was finally revealed in full, just how violent the scene had become. He couldn't help but gape at mutilated corpses strewn about the ground and hanging from the trees, skewered by their branches. While Cadogan picked through the carnage for anything useful, Merlin and Luke stood frozen, weighed down by the guilt of what they had just done.

Eventually Cadogan spoke up apparently reading Merlin's thoughts based on his body language, “Merlin, it's not like with Charles. He was just a prick and you almost killed him out of rage and madness. These men,” Cadogan gestured to the carnage. “They were murderers and oppressors.”

“But the brutality of it...” Merlin protested. “I know we're justified in battling them, but this wasn't a battle, it was a _massacre_.”

“Merlin,” Cadogan began.

“He’s right Cadogan,” Luke interrupted. “This is too much.”

“No, it isn't,” Cadogan replied firmly. “Look, we all know that we had no chance of a direct confrontation and that this is the quickest and most effective way we have of kicking out Morgana. These men are far from innocent, and besides, they're dead aren't they? The condition of their bodies after the fact is of little consequence to them.”

Merlin and Luke weren't convinced that they'd done the right thing but as late as it was and with the mood that had settled over them, they didn't feel like arguing. They laid low for the next several days, both waiting for news on how their performance had been received by the Empire and, in the case of Merlin and Luke, grappling with the knowledge of what they'd done. Eventually Cadogan snapped them out of it. “Look, you two need to get a grip. This is war and people die in wars and it's rarely as nice and neat as a killing curse. Now you can quit now but remember why we started this to begin with.” At this, Merlin decided his friend was right, as much as he loathed what he was getting involved in. The time for sentiment was over, at least for now.

Eventually they staged another attack and another. Each time the soldiers were less inclined to fight and more inclined to flee. The plan, Merlin was glad to discover, was working. Eventually they started staging attacks in the open and staging mass curses on soldiers quartered in the occupied towns. Soon, there wasn't a single mercenary in Wales and apparently, despite their fear of their employer Morgana, they would not return to Britannia for fear of the demonic spirit of Myrddin Wyllt.

It was this development that prompted Merlin to suggest they advance their plans into the heart of Morgana's Empire. Thus, under cover of darkness and Merlin's concealment charms, the three made their way to Argentia. They continued their attacks there but with less success. As it happened, Morgana's army of mercenaries was not composed exclusively of the gens non magica. Rather, she had chosen to keep her sorcerers on Argentia where the rebellion was much stronger. The presence of enemy witches and wizards at their little escapades made it more difficult to maintain the illusion of a terrible, supernatural being. Though they were still able to impact Morgana's army, there was much more skepticism about who and what Myrddin Wyllt really was, and thus he became a less terrifying figure for them.

In light of this, the three of them chose to hold off on future attacks for a while to come up with a new and better way to achieve their goal of bringing down the Empire. It was one of those nights when they sat discussing what they'd do that they were ambushed. How their captors had gotten past Merlin's barriers was something of a mystery at first and they wouldn't learn how it happened until well after they'd arrived at their captors’ camp.

The three of them were led through the dark of night, blindfolded and bound, wands confiscated. Merlin dared not use his other magic against them for he could tell there were many of them and any attempt to escape would likely result in the deaths of his friends at the very least. But Merlin was also curious as to who these people were for he could hear bits of whispered conversations between them and though he could not discern exactly what they were talking about, he could tell that they weren't speaking the language of the Saxon mercenaries. Instead they spoke an assortment of Welsh, Latin, and Gaelic, among other languages.

When they finally stopped, they were thrown to the ground along with the items their captors had taken from them. One of the men marched up to a tent that Merlin could barely make out through his blindfold. “We’ve captured three sorcerers your highness,” he said. “We believe them to be enemy spies. Do you wish to question them or shall we just execute them?”


	11. The Rebellion

# The Rebellion

At first Merlin began to panic and started thinking of ways that he and his friends could escape. He thought it unlikely that Morgana would travel with her soldiers and that they’d just happen to be taken by the soldiers with whom she’d been travelling. But the reply that came from inside the tent caused Merlin to abandon all of these thoughts out of both joyful surprise and relief. “I wish you’d stop calling me that,” the voice said from inside, it was a voice that Merlin recognized instantly despite all the time that had passed and it wasn’t Morgana’s. “I’m not a king.”

“Arthur?” Merlin said to himself, quietly at first. Then he shouted, “Arthur!” an outburst which prompted a strike from one of his captors that sent pain through the back of his skull, but he was so overjoyed and relieved that he barely noticed.

A few moments later Merlin could barely make out two figures walk out of the tent but based on what little Merlin could make out of the body language of the one on the left, he could tell that this man was also pleasantly surprised. “Merlin?” he asked disbelievingly.

Merlin smiled at the recognition he heard in his dearest friend’s voice. “Of all the people to be captured by I didn’t expect it’d be King Arthur himself.”

This flustered Arthur a bit, “Um, Merlin please don’t, ah...” Eventually though, he got a grip. “Um, release these men at once,” he commanded.

“Sir?”

“They aren’t enemies,” Arthur clarified. “I know this one and I trust that his friends are as safe as he is.”

“Well,” Cadogan interjected. “I wouldn’t say any of us are ‘safe’ exactly, but assuming you are the Arthur I think you are, then I think we can assume that we are all on the same side.”

“Cheeky,” the man standing next to Arthur said. “Very well your highness, I shall release them.”

As Merlin and his other two friends were released he heard Arthur once again protest to being called highness. When Merlin’s blindfold was removed, the first thing he took in was Arthur. It had been two years since they’d last seen each other and their last meeting hadn’t been under the best of circumstances. Thinking back to that last meeting, Merlin couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt when he remembered Lady Igraine’s death. For a moment Merlin’s thoughts turned dark once more and his face fell as he recalled the secret that he vowed he would never tell Arthur, the secret that he _couldn’t_ tell Arthur lest it tear asunder their friendship.

Merlin quickly forced himself to return to the present. Though the circumstances of their current reunion were probably little better than those of their last, it was still good to see Arthur. In many ways he was the same old Arthur, but Merlin could tell he’d changed. Arthur undoubtedly had a similar assessment of Merlin. Arthur, Merlin noticed, had grown to be almost Merlin’s height, apparently taking after the Whitecastle side of the family. Aside from his height, Arthur also looked older in general. Merlin couldn’t help but be reminded somewhat of Uther now when he looked at his friend. His once boyish features, though not completely gone, were quickly being replaced by those of a man.

His attire was also different. He was in a full set of armor but not just any armor. It was the armor worn by the Lord of Camelot. Merlin could only imagine how he looked to Arthur after the two years of being apart.

But the physical changes were nothing compared to that which Merlin perceived underneath. Though Arthur now carried himself with the confidence of a great leader, which was quite a change indeed, he also retained the old humility that Merlin had observed in him before. But Arthur’s heart, Merlin could tell, had also been hardened by hardship. The innocence that had only just begun to erode when they’d last met was now all but gone from his friend’s eyes. Though he stood erect and resolute, like the grand towers and columns of Merlin’s alma mater, Arthur also appeared weighed down by the task that lay before them all. Merlin also detected a guilt that was so deeply buried that he’d barely noticed it at first and couldn’t hope to guess as to the source.

After a few moments of taking each other in, moments that Merlin figured were probably quite awkward for everyone around them, Merlin and Arthur embraced each other, not as friends reuniting after a long separation, but as brothers, seeing each other for the first time since the start of a great struggle. When they finally drew apart they were both grinning and for a moment, Arthur looked like he was fifteen again, ready to have another misadventure with his best friend and without a care in the world. “Come,” he said finally, “we have a lot of catching up to do. Your friends are also welcome to join us.”

The three of them followed Arthur into the tent from which he’d emerged earlier. The tent was mostly spartan in its furnishings. In the center stood a single foldable wooden table. It was mostly clear now but in the corner sat large rolls of parchment and some stones that presumably served as paperweights. Merlin guessed that this particular tent was the warroom. Off in the corner of the tent was a small mat and pillow which led Merlin to conclude that this tent also served as Arthur’s quarters when it wasn’t used for other things.

“So who are your friends?” Arthur asked.

“This is Cadfael Cadogan, but we just call him Cadogan,” Merlin replied gesturing to Cadogan, “and this is Luke Pantaleon.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Arthur replied. “Can I get you anything to eat, we don’t have much but it’s enough.”

“We’re fine,” Cadogan replied. “We have some of our own stuff.”

“So I take it you’ve been leading the Argentian rebellion,” Merlin commented.

“Yeah, kind of,” Arthur replied. “Not that you can really call it a rebellion. We’ve really just been harassing Morgana’s forces, stealing supplies from them to keep us going. We’ve got decent numbers and the men have hope that we can win this but...”

“But what?” Merlin asked.

“It’s a losing battle Merlin. The lords know it, I know it. We haven’t managed to take a single city back. No matter what we do, it’s like she always has more men.”

“If that’s what you think then why are any of you still fighting?” Cadogan asked.

“An excellent question,” Merlin concurred.

“Well we almost just gave up actually,” Arthur replied. “Then this woodland ‘spirit’ shows up out of nowhere and starts doing more to the Empire in a few months than we’ve done for the entire duration of this rebellion.”

“Woodland spirit you say?” Merlin asked.

Arthur shot him a knowing glance before replying, “Yeah, at least that’s what he’s supposed to be. Calls himself Myrddin Wyllt. If I didn’t know better I’d probably think he was a spirit too. But if I had to guess, I’d say that he’s more flesh and blood than most people would think.” Arthur turned around to look Merlin straight in the eye.

Merlin couldn’t help but grin amusedly in reply. “Okay, you caught me,” he said finally throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Or rather us.”

Arthur chuckled slightly in response before saying, “You three put on quite the show.”

“Got the Empire out of Wales didn’t it?” Cadogan said.

“It did at that,” Arthur replied.

“But we’ve been having a more difficult time here,” Luke said, speaking for the first time since their capture.

“Why’s that?” Arthur asked.

“Well, all the mercenaries in Wales were gens non magica, most of whom hadn’t ever seen magic before. It made them easier to fool into believing the story and abandoning their employment. Here though... Well it seems Morgana decided to keep her sorcerers closer to home, probably something to do with you. Anyway, they have an easier time figuring out when they’re being attacked by a ‘woodland spirit’ and when they’re the subjects of a grand illusion and a load of theatrics.”

“I see.”

An awkward pause followed the simple statement and the desire to learn the full story of how the entire island fell to Morgana, of what all had happened since his last meeting with Arthur began to grow more powerful. Eventually, Merlin asked, “Arthur, what exactly happened, after the last time we saw each other?”

Arthur let out a long sigh before replying. “Where to begin?”

“How about the beginning,” Merlin replied.

“Well, after I sent Lumpy to get you out--”

“Lumpy?” Cadogan asked sarcastically, an outburst that was unappreciated by Merlin and Arthur.

“He was our golem,” Merlin clarified. “Arthur sent him to break me out of prison.”

“Anyway,” Arthur continued. “I went in search of Guinevere. I wanted to warn her that I may have to leave Camelot. If my father found out what I’d done, in his state of mind, he’d likely have had me executed. As it was, I didn’t wait around long enough for him to find out.”

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked, though he was quite certain he knew what his friend was talking about. Arthur’s reply only proved him right.

“I came in on my parents. Apparently they’d been having some kind of an argument and Uther...” Merlin could see that the wound had yet to heal and he doubted that it ever would. Merlin himself felt the old familiar guilt gnawing at him again but he was able to conceal it masterfully. He placed a consoling hand on Arthur’s shoulder, “I’m sorry,” Merlin said. Though Arthur and the others perceived it as Merlin hoped they would, i.e. the condolences of a close friend, for Merlin, it was even more an apology than an expression of his sympathies, an apology that he couldn’t ever voice explicitly. Despite this apology, or perhaps because of it and how he’d done it, Merlin felt guiltier than ever.

“After that I fled Camelot. My courage failed me but so did my reason. I didn’t flee out of fear or anger alone. I was a mess. Eventually I got a grip on myself and returned. I didn’t go back to live, or to wait for Uther to just die so I could fix things, however the hell I was going to do _that_. I was done waiting. I returned to kill Uther, I didn’t care about Queen Rhiannon’s magic, I was going to finish him and just be done with it.

“Only, by the time I’d gotten back, Morgana had beaten me to it. Uther was dead, her Saxon mercenaries had started swarming the castle. There weren’t enough men left to fend them off. The plague had taken too many. I was determined to fight nonetheless. I entered my father’s chambers and took his old armor which was a little big for me at the time. I took my sword and began to cut down soldier after soldier in a frenzy. Those few soldiers and knights who remained rallied behind me and though our cause was hopeless, we still killed more of them than they did of us.

“Fortunately Guinevere found us and, as the voice of reason, convinced us to retreat. So we all made our escape, fighting our way out of the city where we had to. We took refuge in the forest where we took time to recover. By the time we were ready to fight again, Morgana had already conquered the whole island.

“I very nearly gave up at that moment, but Guinevere gave me strength to continue. For two years we’ve been harassing Morgana’s forces, rallying more people to our cause, military and otherwise. Most of the other lords were killed in the initial invasions of their cities. Only their children, or more distant relatives remain. The entire ruling family of Embercross was actually executed, their forces are being led by a commoner.”

“I thought you were leading all the forces,” Luke commented.

“It’s less of a single rebellion and more of a loose alliance of the various cities of the island. Unlike the British kingdoms, Argentia has never been united. We’ve had good relations but never a single state. The only reason we’ve banded together, really, is that we’re all in the same boat.” Arthur scoffed ruefully after this before saying, “That’s part of why it’s been so difficult to get a clear victory. There’s too much disagreement among the alliance leaders about what to do, or how to do it, things are too disorganized.”

“Why do they call you king then?” Merlin asked pointedly.

“What?” Arthur’s look of surprise indicated that he had never really considered the title bestowed upon him by his men to be anything more than a joke to make him uncomfortable.

“Arthur, I think you’re all a lot more united than you think, and the other lords have united behind you.”

“What makes you think that?” Arthur asked.

“The man who brought us here, that was Lord Aquila’s son wasn’t it?” Merlin asked.

“Well, he _is_ Lord Aquila now, but yes. Why?”

“Well, Lord Aquila didn’t just _call_ you king, he deferred to you. He asked you what should be done with us. You may not have looked closely enough but it’s plain to me that you’re essentially leading this rebellion. True, you’re not doing it alone and there’s probably something to your complaint of disunity but I think that has more to do with _how_ you lead them than whether or not they can be led.”

“What are you talking about Merlin? I’m seventeen! I’m barely a man!”

“And yet you still managed to rally those still loyal to Camelot to your cause when you were just fifteen, after having just lost your mother and in the middle of a devastating invasion and plague. Then, over the next two years, assuming you’re telling the truth, which I think you are, you managed to bring together people from the other conquered cities. You _are_ a leader.”

“Merlin, if the lords wanted me to lead them, then we wouldn’t have so much difficulty coming up with a greater strategy to win this war.”

“Maybe,” Merlin began, “it’s not that the other alliance leaders don’t want you to lead them, but rather that you have yet to lead with sufficient confidence to get them to commit to more decisive action.”

“What does that even mean? How is my confidence going to convince them that a more decisive attack can win?”

“In the realm of politics Arthur,” Merlin began, “perception is quite often reality. If the other alliance leaders _perceive_ that you have a strong and effective strategy, they’re going to be more likely to believe that it _is_ strong and effective. They’ll be more likely to follow you and their commitment, assuming you’ve planned appropriately, will complete the self fulfilling prophecy. Their commitment will make the strategy effective.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, his face stern. “Now you’re just saying things.”

“No I’m--” Merlin began to protest.

“Yeah, you are,” Cadogan and Luke interrupted simultaneously, prompting a withering glare from Merlin that said, “You’re not helping guys.”

“Merlin,” Arthur continued. “Even if I am some kind of great leader for these people, no strategy I come up with, no amount of confidence in myself, no amount of leadership is going to win this for us. We simply are outnumbered and under-equipped. We don’t have the physical means to win this rebellion.”

“Correction, you didn’t,” Merlin replied.

“What?” Arthur asked confusedly. “Merlin, what do you mean ‘didn’t’ we still don’t.”

“You’re wrong Arthur.”

Slowly, realization of what Merlin was suggesting dawned on him. “No,” he said flatly. “I won’t allow it.”

“Won’t allow what?” Luke asked.

Merlin and Arthur ignored him. “What do you mean won’t allow it Arthur? We’ve already been involved in this rebellion and we intend on continuing to be involved whether we’re part of your alliance or not.”

“Merlin, I told you not to come back until I gave you the sign that it was safe--”

“You may as well have just told me that that day would never come,” Merlin returned. “If you can’t win this then how will it ever be ‘safe’ for me to return. Besides, safe is a relative term.” For a moment the four of them stood in the tent silently. Arthur it seemed had no answer for Merlin but for some reason still refused to accept his friend’s help. “Arthur, I know things are difficult, but we can help. We _will_ help. It doesn’t matter if we do that on our own staging attacks by ‘Myrddin Wyllt’ or if we do that with you and your alliance. The only difference it makes is how quickly we finish this.”

Arthur looked like he was about to refuse Merlin’s help once and for all before they were interrupted by Guinevere. The sound of her pushing aside the tent flap drew everyone’s attention to the tent entrance. She looked almost exactly as Merlin remembered her though her attire was significantly different. She wore her usual simple clothing, but it looked older and more worn. Covering it was a bloodstained apron. Being a generally quiet person, she simply greeted Merlin with a friendly smile and said, “Welcome back. Come to join the fight I presume?”

“If Arthur will let us,” Merlin replied. “Guinevere, these are my friends from Hogwarts, Cadogan and Luke.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” she said. Then she turned to Arthur, “Arthur, I’ve just returned from the medical tent. We’ve treated all the wounded. Everyone will recover eventually but Lord Easton of Essetir...”

“I see,” Arthur replied. “We should visit Lady Easton and inform her of her brother’s death.” Arthur turned to Merlin and his friends, “If you’ll excuse me Merlin.”

“Actually, Arthur,” Guinevere interrupted, “there’s something I’d like to talk to you about first.”

“Can’t it wait?” Arthur asked.

“No, Arthur,” Guinevere replied sternly. “It can’t wait. It won’t take long though.” Then she turned to Merlin, “If you could give us a moment please.”

“Of course,” Merlin replied then he motioned for Cadogan and Luke to follow him.

Once they were outside Cadogan asked, “Merlin, are you sure it’s such a good idea for us to join up with Arthur? I know he’s your friend but...”

“Honestly Cadogan, I think it’s a crazy idea but it’s a lot less crazy than continuing our Myrddin Wyllt stunts, at least alone that is,” Merlin replied.

“I’m no tactician,” Luke began, “but wouldn’t working together be better than working separately?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “It’ll allow us to coordinate our efforts.”

“So we coordinate our efforts,” Cadogan replied. “How much good does that really do--”

Cadogan was interrupted by Arthur’s emergence from the tent with Guinevere. “Guinevere has convinced me to hear you out,” he said to Merlin. “But I won’t hear anything more until the battle meeting tomorrow morning. I have duties to attend to and I think we could all use some sleep. I can have tents prepared for you.”

“We’ll be fine, thank you Arthur. I promise you, you won’t regret this.” Merlin was able to discern a cautious hope in his friend’s expression, a hope that everything was going to turn out after all. As Arthur turned away to attend his duties Merlin said quietly to his other two friends, “He consciously denies that he is the leader of these people, yet he knows deep down that he is their rock.”

“How can you tell?” Cadogan asked.

Merlin turned to face his friend with a single raised eyebrow, “It’s in the way he acts, the way he carries himself. He knows that he has to be the one to keep these people together because no one else will. That’s why it’s his ‘duty’ to inform Lady Easton that her brother’s died, not just out of courtesy, but also because she’s essentially been thrust into a leadership position herself. Now she’ll have to lead the forces of Essetir.”

The three of them spent that night as they usually did, camped out under the forest canopy, concealed by Merlin’s magic. Of course this time, they were rather close to the large camp of rebels led by Arthur. Merlin had convinced his friend and the other lords and lady to allow him to extend his concealment charms around the entire camp so that they might all have added protection against Morgana that night. When morning came, Merlin and his friends ate a quick breakfast from the supplies they’d stolen from Morgana’s men and then proceeded to the main tent where the war room was located. When they arrived they found the entrance guarded by poorly equipped rebel soldiers. Of course “soldier” wasn’t quite the word that Merlin would have used.

The guards were really just a couple of boys, probably a year younger than Cadogan. They had no armor and swords that had clearly come from some Saxons hung awkwardly at their sides. Based on their hands and attire, Merlin surmised that they had originally worked on a farm before joining the rebellion. Merlin also guessed that their youth, lack of equipment, and apparent inexperience with combat was why they got relegated to guard duty. As Merlin made for the tent entrance one of them stopped him. “You’re not allowed in there,” he said. “The King’s in his war room.”

“King eh?” Merlin muttered to himself pleased that the evidence for his assertions the previous night seemed to be mounting. “My name is Merlin and these are my friends Cadogan and Luke, Arthur is expecting us.”

“Oh,” the boy said. “Well, I guess, umm...” He glanced over to his companion looking for help on what to do. Fortunately for him, his companion did.

“You’re permitted in Mister Ambrosius,” he said. “But _only_ you.”

“What?” Cadogan asked incredulously. “What do you mean _only_ him?”

“It’s fine Cadogan,” Merlin soothed, then he took his friends aside for a moment and spoke to them softly so no one else would hear him. “It’s probably best that you guys stay out here anyway. The other leaders will tolerate me because they trust Arthur and they know that he knows me personally. But you guys are strangers to _all_ of them. Besides, you could probably manage to gain their trust and make it easier to convince them to let us help if you went around helping out around the camp.”

“How would we do that?” Cadogan asked angrily.

“I could help out in the medical tent,” Luke offered. “I bet I could pull things off that they couldn’t, being muggles.”

“Excellent,” Merlin replied. “And you could probably help train some of the rebels Cadogan,” Merlin spared a glance back at the two awkward guards. “Heavens knows they need it.”

“It’s not like I can teach them curses Merlin,” Cadogan shot back.

“I’m not asking you to,” Merlin replied. “But we _did_ have sword combat classes at Hogwarts and as I recall, you were quite good at them.”

Now it was Cadogan’s turn to glance at the guards. “I’m not sure Merlin, they look like they’ve got _a lot_ to learn.”

“Everyone’s got to start somewhere.”

“Okay, we’ll do that then,” Cadogan replied.

“Thanks, I’ll see you in a bit.” Merlin turned back to the guards and made to enter the tent once again and was once again stopped by the guards.

“We’ll need your wand as well,” the first one said.

“As a precautionary measure,” continued the other.

Merlin hesitated for a moment before reluctantly offering his wand to the guards. Even though he knew he was no longer defenseless without it, it still gave him some peace of mind to know that he could easily whip it out at a moment’s notice. Merlin crossed the threshold and entered the tent.

He was greeted by the sight of twelve different men of varying ages and one woman gathered around the table he’d seen the night before. On the table, the maps were now spread out, displaying the geography of Argentia and various locations on it. Markers carved from wood into different shapes represented the respective forces of the rebels and Morgana.

Arthur looked up at Merlin’s entry and commented, “You’re a tad late. We started just a few minutes ago.”

“Sorry, had some trouble with your guards,” Merlin replied.

Merlin heard one of the other leaders mutter under his breath, “That’s no excuse for tardiness.”

“As I recall,” Arthur said, “the guards were placed there at your suggestion Lord Aquila.” Arthur had evidently heard it as well but had been able to identify who had said it. Lord Aquila made no reply. It was clear that most of the other leaders did not welcome Merlin’s presence. The palpable tension demonstrated that Merlin was still not trusted.

“Anyway,” Arthur said, resuming the battle meeting. “You were saying General Evawn?”

“Yes. Well as a result of our recent increase in raids and this mysterious Myrddin Wylt character, Morgana seems to have decided to change her strategy. Previously she’s been sending troops out in search of us. Now, though, our scouts report that she’s started concentrating her forces in only a few cities. Ferroton, Argurbus, Embercross, Rivengard, and Camelot.”

“Why would she do that?” asked, Lady Easton, the one woman in the room.

“She’s seen how much bolder we’re getting, she probably thinks that we’ll try to take a city soon,” Lord Aquila offered.

“It’s not just that,” General Evawn said. “It’s more probable that she’s figured out our tactics of hit and run and she knows that it’ll be much more difficult for us to raid her men if they’re in cities, especially if those cities are situated on plains and have excellent visibility all around, like the cities where she’s concentrated her forces. She’s probably also figured out that the only way we’ve been supplying ourselves is by stealing from her forces. She means to starve us out.”

Up to this point Merlin had merely listened. “You’re partly right General,” he said. “But I think you’re missing some things. For example, not all of those cities have great visibility all around. There’s a small forest adjacent to Camelot where there are plenty of places to hide an army and Embercross, though on flat land, is right in the middle of the Great Forest of Essetir. Surely if she was more interested in simply protecting her men, she’d put them in Thorncoast or Brixia.”

“So what do you think she’s doing then?” one of the other lords asked, his tone conveying annoyance at Merlin’s very presence.

“She’s guarding something, or rather several things,” Merlin replied calmly. “Things that armies need, especially a mercenary army because those don’t come cheap.”

“What’s she guarding?” General Evawn asked.

“Resources. Ferroton,” Merlin said, pointing at the dot on the map that represented the city. “Ferroton is abundant in iron ore. That’s been the central pillar of the city’s economy for centuries and it’s absolutely critical to making steel which armies need to make and repair equipment. Embercross is rich in coal which is also important in making steel and is used as fuel in many other applications. Argurbus, at least when I was last here, was second only to Camelot in agricultural production and we all know that an army marches on its stomach. Finally, while all of Argentia is rich in silver, Rivengard has the largest and most productive mines. Morgana’s probably using that silver to pay her mercenaries their salary.”

“She’s protected cities essential to maintaining her army,” General Evawn said, looking at their battle map as if realizing for the first time just how difficult their task really was.

“Then why’s she guarding Camelot?” Lord Aquila asked.

“It’s her capitol of course,” Lady Easton replied.

“Not quite,” Merlin replied. “There’s a reason she’s made it her base of operations. Camelot is the largest port in Argentia which makes it ideal for bringing in reinforcements from Saxony.”

“All this speculation is great, but how exactly does it help us?” Lord Aquila commented.

“It doesn’t,” another of the rebel leaders interjected.

“On the contrary Lord Seraph,” Arthur replied. “It gives us further insight into the enemy’s motivations for their change of tactics. That’s information we can use to plan our next attack.”

“What next attack?” another man that Merlin recognized as Lord Cadwalader of Borthladd Britannia, apparently the only of the lords to to have survived Morgana’s initial invasions. At first Merlin found it slightly curious that the other rebel leaders had not rallied behind him instead of Arthur but it later occurred to Merlin that Lord Cadwalader, unlike many of the other younger leaders and especially Arthur, was completely inexperienced when it came to combat. The ruling family of Borthladd Britannia was less like other forms of aristocracy. Their station came less from having royal blood or from military force and more from their skill as administrators and merchants. The entire long dynasty was founded on their ability to turn a profit in a market. Even when Camelot’s civil war had threatened to draw their city in all those centuries ago, rather than taking military action they had called upon Queen Rhiannon to put a stop to the violence.

“I don’t understand your meaning Lord Cadwalader,” General Evawn replied. “Do you mean to suggest that we should give up because our enemy has changed her tactics?”

“This whole rebellion has been a fool’s task from the beginning with very little hope of success. Now there’s absolutely no hope.”

“You’re wrong,” Merlin replied. “This information is good news. It tells us that we’re finally putting enough pressure on Morgana to give her pause. She’s no longer just barrelling over everyone anymore. But it also means that we have to act soon and act decisively because she will undoubtedly be attempting to bring in more mercenaries from Saxony. If we can take one of these cities--”

“Hold on,” Lord Aquila interrupted. “When did this become a _we_. I don’t recall anyone inviting you to join the rebellion outright, just to _observe_ the war meeting.”

Merlin’s patience with these men was beginning to wear thin but he made sure to keep his cool when he replied. “I realize that no one has explicitly invited me to join this rebellion, but whether I’ve been asked to join your alliance or not, I will help the rebellion. In fact I have been helping the rebellion for quite some time, though you may not know it.”

“What do you mean?” Lord Seraph asked.

“He’s Myrddin Wyllt,” Lord Cadwalader replied in a moment of epiphany.

“What makes you say that Cadwalader?” Lord Aquila asked. “We know virtually nothing of this Welsh legend--”

“He’s not a Welsh legend,” Lord Cadwalader interrupted. “I already told you this. But Myrddin, is the Welsh version of Merlinus. He is Merlinus the Wild.”

“It’s true,” Arthur replied. “He and his other two friends have been harassing the Empire’s forces for us and putting on quite a show while doing it.”

“Fine,” Lord Aquila reluctantly conceded. “But once again, how does this help us? We can’t do raids anymore, at least not effective ones and that’s all that either of our groups have been doing.”

“That’s fine,” Merlin replied. “Morgana’s changed her tactics, so I think it’s probably about time we change ours. We need to take a city.”

“But which one?” Lady Easton asked.

“One of the ones that Morgana depends on but that we can also make the best use of,” General Evawn replied. “Rivengard won’t do us any good, there’s still plenty of silver in the rest of Argentia and while Morgana needs silver for her efforts, we do not.”

“Correct,” Arthur replied. “Besides, she’s put too large a force there for us to be able to effectively combat them with our training and equipment.”

“How about two targets,” Merlin suggested.

“Are you mad?” exclaimed one of the other lords who until this point had remained silent.

“I agree with Lord Caerleon,” Arthur said. “Granted having you and your other friends on board will be a significant advantage but even then I don’t think we could take two cities at the same time.”

“I never said that we take two of them. Only one,” Merlin replied. “The other will be a decoy.”

“What are you planning?” Lord Aquila asked skeptically.

Merlin remained silent for a moment. He looked over to his friend and they began to hold a kind of silent conversation. Finally, it was Arthur who spoke. “It’s crazy Merlin, but I think it will work.” He turned back to the rest of the assembled leaders. “First, we attack one of the critical cities, make it look as if that’s the one we want to take. We use some of the theatrics of the Myrddin Wyllt troupe to make it look as if we’re better off than we really are. The goal will be to draw Morgana’s forces from the other cities. We then move on one of the less guarded cities and take that one.”

“And how are we going to manage that? We’ve only got one army,” Lord Seraph pointed out.

“We split our forces,” Merlin replied. “We send the smaller force as the distraction.”

“We can’t make it that much smaller,” Lady Easton pointed out. “If it’s too small then no amount of magic and theatrics will conceal the fact that it’s not our main force.”

“She’s right,” General Evawn concurred. “Let’s also not forget that they have sorcerers of their own, and far more of them.”

“You’re right,” Merlin conceded. “Which is why we need to do more than just distract her forces and attack the unguarded cities.”

“Really?” Lord Aquila said with an edge of sarcasm. “And what do you suppose we should do?”

“It’s really quite simple Lord Aquila,” Merlin replied firmly, locking eyes with the other man. “We infiltrate our real target city, and conduct covert operations. We sabotage any forces that remain behind and foment a rebellion among the locals who still live there.”

“This is a lofty plan Mister Ambrosius,” Lord Cadwalader commented. “How can we be sure we can pull it off?”

“We can’t,” Merlin replied. “There’s always a little risk in everything but right now, we don’t have much of a choice. It’s either we try this or we surrender and if we surrender, each one of us will be executed, probably after days of torture.”

There was silence for a moment before Lord Caerleon spoke up, “This plan will take quite some organization. As it is right now, we just have a vague idea of what we want to do. We still need to select a city, decide who leads which forces and how many... This planning will be complicated enough for one man but you also want to organize covert operations?”

“That’s why it won’t all be done by one man,” Arthur replied. “We’ll have to divide the work. We’ll make Rivengard the decoy, we may not be concerned about the silver but Morgana will be and it will be hard to pay her already present soldiers _and_ hire more mercenaries if her silver resources take a hit so she’ll be quite focused on that city. We’ll then go for Ferroton because we need the iron to equip our men. Lord Gouedard, since your men are the best equipped and trained, you’ll lead the decoy attack, it’ll be easier to make it appear that we’re more prepared with your men than with our others. Lord Hutmorda, you should go with him. The rest of us will prepare to march on Ferroton. Merlin,” Arthur now turned to Merlin. “If you’re still keen on joining us I’m going to ask you to handle the covert operations.”

“No need to ask,” Merlin replied. “But I will recommend that Lords Gouedard and Hutmorda take Cadogan with them, though he’s not nearly as adept at illusions as I am he certainly has a flair for theatrics. He’ll be an asset when it comes to fooling Morgana into thinking we’re attacking Rivengard.”

“Very well--”

“Now hold just a minute,” Lord Aquila interrupted. “We haven’t agreed to this yet. You can’t just start ordering us around as if you’re a king.”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been calling me,” Arthur replied. For a moment there was dead silence as the two glared at each other, neither yielding ground to the other. The tension in the air was so thick you could have cut it with a broadsword. Eventually Arthur spoke again, “Very well, let’s take a vote then shall we? All in favor of the plan?” In that moment, everyone but Lords Aquila and Seraph raised their hands in favor of the plan. “It looks like the overwhelming majority agrees Lord Aquila. Now you’re welcome to leave the alliance but consider the consequences of doing so.”

“Fine,” Lord Aquila replied. “You have my support, but only just. I still think this is a suicide mission.”

From there, preparations went smoothly. During the war meeting, Cadogan and Luke had successfully gained the trust of many of the rebels and after Merlin’s assistance at the meeting many of the rebel leaders now trusted them as well. Arthur’s position as leader of the alliance had been cemented and made official and he directed the efforts to prepare for the upcoming assaults. Luke’s ministrations got the wounded and sick rebels back on their feet more quickly than would have been possible without his immense skill. Cadogan planned for the decoy assault with Lords Gouedard and Hutmorda. Meanwhile, Merlin sought out people to help him with his task. He eventually found two volunteers whose membership in the rebellion was largely unknown by Morgana’s forces and he began to brief them on the plan he’d formulated.

In two weeks, the whole operation was launched and it went off without a hitch. Lords Gouedard and Hutmorda struck Rivengard and laid siege to it from the shadows of the Great Forest of Essetir. Cadogan used his own talents to make it appear as if the entire rebel army was now attacking the city and that they were better off than previously believed.

As expected, Morgana began moving her forces from the other cities to defend Rivengard. Though Merlin’s task was difficult at first, he managed to convince enough of the remaining residents of Ferroton to aid him in his mission. When the day of Arthur’s invasion came Merlin’s hidden forces sabotaged and attacked Morgana’s men from within the city while the rebel alliance attacked them from without. In less than a day, Ferroton had been liberated and two days later, the force attacking Rivengard returned to the main force of the alliance having lost only one man.

There was much celebration among the rebels and the residents of Ferroton after the great success of their operation and even lord Aquila conceded that the plan had gone well. Unfortunately, the celebrations couldn’t last long. By now Morgana would have figured out their plan and begun making preparations to counter attack. What was more, it was doubtful that the same tactic would work a second time and they still needed sufficient coal supplies from Embercross to make steel. Embercross was still under imperial control.

Once again, Merlin found himself in the rebels’ war room, only this time it was different. It wasn't just that they had set up in the war room of Lord Gouedard’s now retaken castle rather than a tent. This time, most of the assembled leaders were more accepting and trusting of Merlin and his wizard friends. Where before Merlin had seen a demoralized and hopeless assembly that was fighting simply because they couldn't turn back, he now saw a group of men with a renewed determination to win. Merlin was also now accompanied by Cadogan. Luke had chosen to remain with the wounded and ill.

“Liberating Embercross will be more difficult than our last endeavor to liberate Ferroton,” General Evawn noted as they stood around the central table. “Our little diversion trick is unlikely to work twice.”

“And yet tricks seem to be our only advantage,” Lord Aquila replied ruefully.

“We can't risk a direct assault,” Lord Hutmorda said as he eyed the map before them.

“We can if we act quickly,” Lady Easton offered. “If we mobilize within the next two days and pack light we can make it to Embercross before Morgana's reinforcements.”

“It's too risky,” Arthur replied. “We’d be leaving too much behind and this time they’ll be better prepared. Furthermore, it's not like the force remaining at Embercross isn't substantial. And if we arrive too soon we won't have the same advantage of people on the inside that we did last time.”

“So what should we do then?” Lord Gouedard challenged. “We can't stop now after we’ve finally had a real victory! Especially since the whole point of the original assault was to retake enough key cities to build and supply a proper army.”

“No one’s suggesting we just quit while we're ahead,” Merlin replied. “But we do have to take more care in planning this next attack. Now I think it's reasonable to assume that Morgana doesn't know about our covert operations in Ferroton. None of her soldiers stationed here got away so, as far as she can tell, we just took the city from the outside.

“I think it would be a good idea to take the city from both fronts again.”

“I grant you that it’ll help us some,” General Evawn said. “But it's not enough, especially if we take all our essential supplies which will slow us down enough for her forces to beat us there.”

“What if we don't attack Embercross?” Cadogan’s suggestion prompted everyone’s gaze to snap to him faster than a bolt of lightning. “Ahh, I mean,” Cadogan began nervously before gathering himself and proceeding with more confidence. “What I mean is, what if we don't attack Embercross yet?”

“So you’d have us sit on our hands for who knows how long while Morgana hires more mercenaries?” Lord Gouedard exclaimed.

“No,” Cadogan replied defensively. “I’m just saying that maybe our next target shouldn't be the city.”

“Then where, Master Cadogan, do you propose we attack?”

“Well, think about it. Even if we take Embercross, we'll still be spread between the two cities and we'll have to guard the road that connects them which leaves us vulnerable to Morgana's forces that are currently on the move.

“I think we should attack her reinforcements as they travel from Rivengard through the Forest of Essetir. The road through there is pretty narrow so they won't have much room to maneuver and there’ll be plenty of cover for us. That way _we’ll_ have the advantage. Besides Merlin can do some pretty amazing things in forests.”

“That sounds an awful lot like going back to our old hit and run raids,” Lord Aquila commented bitterly.

“It may sound like it but it isn't,” Merlin replied, warming up to the idea. “In the forest, we have an opportunity to completely destroy their forces with minimal casualties of our own and minimal risk.”

“Sounds like an even bigger risk than going straight for Embercross,” Lord Aquila remarked. “What if we lose more men than you think we will? It’ll be even harder to take Embercross.”

“It's possible that the plan won't succeed. But that's just as true of any plan,” Merlin replied. “But I don't think that failure here is probable.”

“Why not?” asked General Evawn with genuine curiosity.

“Because it's been done before,” Arthur replied startling the other lords and lady who had been focused on Merlin and Cadogan. “The Germani and the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth legions. Augustus thought he could conquer the Germani. He sent three of his legions on what he figured would be a simple campaign. They got cornered marching on a narrow path through the Teutoburg Forest. They were completely wiped out.”

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “And in this case we'll be operating under similar circumstances.”

“I say we go with Cadogan’s ambush,” Arthur said finally. “We’ve all done things like this before so we should be able to manage.”

“We should also leave some forces behind to guard the city,” General Evawn said. “In case Morgana decides to shift some of her forces from her other strongholds to attack us here.”

“Not a bad plan,” Arthur replied. “Lord Gouedard, Lord Cadwalader, you’ll remain here. The rest of us will prepare to move out. If this is going to work, we need to meet her before the week’s out.”

“You should also prepare your men for my attack,” Merlin commented. “I’ll make sure they don’t get caught up in it but it can be quite terrifying and we can’t afford having _anyone_ falter if this is to be successful.”

“Prepare how?” Lord Aquila asked.

“Just let them know they shouldn’t be afraid. I’ll be calling upon all the forces of nature I can muster to attack the enemy.”

“Because that’s helpful,” Lord Seraph commented sarcastically.

“Basically there’ll be wolves and vicious trees and killer birds and the like,” Cadogan said shortly, obviously annoyed by what had to be the whiniest and most arrogant of the gathered leaders. When Merlin had first met Lord Seraph, he had just assumed that his attitude toward him and his other magical friends was the result of an understandable mistrust. Now, however, after they had proven themselves trustworthy, he continued to be a thorn in their sides. Upon discussing his behavior with the other leaders in the days following their victory, Merlin had discovered that Lord Seraph was like that with everyone and he frequently expected more from other people than he gave. Really, the only reason he led any of the rebel forces was that he was the heir of the late Lord Seraph of Quercia Deru.

“The warning is appreciated Merlin,” Arthur replied. “Now let’s get moving, dismissed.”

The preparations went rather quickly and the following day they were on the move again. They moved as quickly as they could resting only as long as necessary and often taking meals during the march. Eventually, they came to the forest. It was at this point that Merlin took the lead. In order to maintain the element of surprise and to be able to corner Morgana’s forces on the narrow road connecting Rivengard to Embercross, they had to avoid the main road, at least until the final confrontation. Because of this, they couldn’t simply follow the road to their enemy’s location, they had to sneak through the uncharted areas of the Forest of Essetir. The woods were dense and difficult to see through. In order for the decent sized rebel force to make it through, they had to spread out and carefully watch their step so as not to break an ankle in any unseen rabbit or badger holes. Aside from this the forest held other treacheries and one could easily become lost in it.

To prevent such an ignominious and frankly anticlimactic end to the intrepid band of freedom fighters, Merlin spoke with the trees and the other flora of the forest, asking them to guide them to their destination. Finally, two days before the week’s end, they found their quarry. As quickly and stealthily as they could, the rebel forces split up with half waiting in ambush on one side of the narrow road and the other half waiting on the opposite side. Merlin stood rooted in the middle, waiting to spring the trap.

Slowly, the enemy soldiers came into view and though Merlin and the other rebels could see them clearly, Merlin had very carefully concealed the rebel force from the Saxons with all the power and skill he could muster to the task. There would be no warning this time, no theatrics. Not one enemy soldier could be allowed to survive this attack. If they did, they would escape and warn Morgana and their plans to take Embercross would be ruined.

Merlin waited for the signal from his best friend who lie in wait on the west side of the forest. The soldiers drew closer and closer to Merlin, a long, massive, column of Germanic men in black armor. It was a line which appeared to have no end. Finally, Arthur shouted, “Attack!” He charged out of the forest into the line of soldiers, his loyal rebels close behind. As the concealment charms broke, the assembled Saxons halted suddenly and gaped about in momentary terror and confusion. Men came pouring out from both sides of the road, crashing into the enemy army like waves crashing onto a rocky beach.

As the rebel army began to slay Saxons left and right, Merlin called upon the forest to unleash its own fury upon the invaders. Even as the Saxons began to regain themselves and take to arms, the forest loosed its bowels upon the enemy, rekindling their fear and confusion as they once again fell to the attack. Merlin was tempted to charge in himself, but he remembered that he had to take care not to lose himself to his violent impulses. He reminded himself that he only had to do what needed to be done to free his home, nothing more.

When the battle was through, the road was littered with the bodies of fallen enemy soldiers and stained with their blood. Merlin found Arthur off to the side leaning against and old and powerful tree. He strode over to his friend to see if he was alright. When Merlin came to him, he did not notice any physical wounds, but something was clearly wrong with Arthur, and Merlin figured he knew exactly what was wrong with him, because he’d been there before himself.

“It’s not pretty is it?” Merlin said.

“It’s hideous Merlin,” Arthur replied harshly. “I’ve been through many battles in this long and seemingly hopeless war. I’ve killed people, we all have. But I’ve never massacred anyone.” Arthur now turned his empty gaze from the carnage and looked directly into his friend’s eyes. “How are we any different from our fathers Merlin? If anything, we’re worse!”

“No,” Merlin replied. “We _are_ better than them,” he said, though he didn’t completely believe it himself. He still had to rationalize his own actions to himself. He figured he should do so aloud so that he could ease both his and his friend’s consciences. “Arthur, what makes us different is what we fight for. Uther killed for power and my father killed for pleasure. It’s true that this didn’t need to happen. It could have been avoided had so many things gone right in the past that instead went wrong. But right now we’re in a situation where we are _defending_ what is ours. We’re fighting for our _freedom_ , and for the freedoms of _everyone_ on Argentia. We are in the right.”

Arthur looked skeptically at his friend, “You don’t really believe that do you?”

To tell the truth, Merlin wasn’t quite sure what he believed. His life had become so difficult to navigate since he’d returned home that fateful year to find his mother dead and his best friend’s father thirsting for his blood. “What I believe Arthur,” Merlin finally said, “is that we did what we had to. Morgana is in the wrong and these men were just as wrong for taking her bribes to conquer, oppress, and slaughter the free people of Argentia. The battle may have been bloody Arthur but so are all wars and if you think about it, better them than us.”

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced but he at least nodded, indicating that he would take Merlin’s justification, at least for now. “Come on, we have work to do. We need to take care of these bodies before any more imperial soldiers pass through and realize that Embercross won’t be getting any more reinforcements.” With that, Arthur pushed past Merlin, his expression dour.

At first, no one really knew what to do with the remnants of the battle, but Merlin devised a way of clearing the scene. He transfigured the bodies into stones and deadwood and hid them away in the forest. All that was left was the blood which was easily solved with a scouring charm. In short order, the road was empty and clean, bearing absolutely no sign of the massacre that had just occurred.

That night Merlin had another of his prophetic dreams. He hadn’t had a new one since he’d drank the water from Avalon that night in the Cadogans’ home. Now, he dreamt of a violent battle. It was extremely clear and vivid. Merlin knew exactly where he was. This was the battle of Embercross, only, it wasn’t going at all well for the rebels. At first things had been fine. They had steadily cut down the enemy forces that had left the walls of Embercross to meet them. But then, imperial reinforcements had arrived.

Despite their best efforts, Morgana had discovered them and now nearly all of their forces were in one place. Morgana’s reinforcements, coupled with the forces already stationed at Embercross, swiftly cut down the rebels. Merlin saw Cadogan fall, valiantly slicing at Saxons while blasting others with his wand despite the countless Saxon arrows jutting from his bloodied form. The scene changed, now the Saxons were sweeping through the camp, setting fire to all the tents and supplies. One of the Saxons, a sorcerer, dragged Luke and the other medics out of the medical tent and executed them. With a face as cold and hard as stone he cast killing curses at every single one. The scene changed once more and Merlin was in the throne room of Camelot again. Only he was kneeling on the cold, hard floor while Arthur was bound and levitated by the woman that Merlin recognized from his other dreams. The woman who was Morgana. In one hand she held her wand, in the other a knife. She tortured Arthur, over and over again, her soldiers forcing Merlin to watch. Eventually Arthur begged for death, and she sadistically granted it by slitting his throat as he writhed in pain from her torture curse.

Merlin awoke in a sweat, breathing rapidly from the anxiety caused by what he’d just seen. They were going to lose this next battle. Somehow, Morgana had learned of their plans and despite their best efforts, she had found a way to best them.


	12. Betrayal

# Betrayal

Arthur stood by the firelight in the war room in Lord Gouedard’s recently retaken home. Merlin paced back and forth before him, unable to contain his agitation. “You _must_ summon the others Arthur,” Merlin said, stopping abruptly and pivoting to face his friend.

“Not until you give me more than just a ‘dream’,” Arthur replied.

“It wasn't a dream,” Merlin returned, unable to keep his rising frustration out of his voice. “It was a prophecy Arthur!”

“I believe you Merlin, but do you really think the others will? They’ll think you're--”

“Insane?” Merlin interrupted. Though Arthur neither knew nor intended it, he’d hit a nerve. Merlin recalled back to his days at Hogwarts which, though having only ended a few months prior, seemed so long ago that any psychological wounds acquired from them should have long since healed. But the fact was they hadn't, or at least this one hadn't and that prompted Merlin to ask himself, briefly, what other wounds had yet to heal. “I’m not mad Arthur,” Merlin insisted.

“I don't think you are,” Arthur replied gently. “But Merlin, that won't matter to them.”

“I saw you murdered Arthur, brutally murdered. Bound and tortured ‘till you begged for death. I saw Cadogan slain and Luke executed as the Saxons burned everything to the ground. As they slaughtered every last rebel. We can't just sit and do nothing.”

“No,” Arthur agreed. “We can't. But at the same time, we can't tell everyone else to suddenly change our plans because of a prophecy that they won't believe.”

“We could suggest the possibility of a surprise attack by Morgana during our invasion of Embercross,” Merlin offered, calming down somewhat. “But a ‘maybe’ is far less compelling than a certainty and odds are very little will change if we just say that she _might_ know of our plans.”

“It's still more compelling than telling them you saw the future which they won't believe at all. And then _nothing_ will change except that they won't trust you anymore which puts us in a worse position.”

Merlin had to concede his argument, but he still refused to believe that there was nothing else he could do. “There must be something else that can be done,” Merlin said.

“There probably is Merlin,” Arthur replied. “But we won’t think of it standing around muttering to each other about prophecies and death at this ungodly hour. What we both need is sleep, then maybe we’ll think of something in the morning.”

Merlin didn’t really want to admit it but he knew that his friend was right. He really was quite tired now that the initial adrenaline rush spurred by his prophetic dream had faded. Thus, resigned to letting Arthur have this one, Merlin nodded his head wearily in assent. Merlin followed Arthur out of the room until they split up to go to their respective chambers. When Merlin stepped into his room, he couldn’t help but notice how different it was from the accommodations he’d gotten used to since he’d become a combatant in this fight for freedom.

He now had a bed and a wardrobe where before he’d had to make do with the gear he’d packed for the quick trips to and from Hogwarts, and when that had failed, he’d scrounged materials from the forest and enchanted them and the remnants of his travel gear as best he could to make a makeshift bed. Previously, he’d had to use pond surfaces and later the steel armor of the enemy Saxons to see his reflection whenever he wanted to shave or cut his hair to at least partially alleviate the effect of the summer heat. Now he had a proper mirror.

As Merlin gazed at this mirror, pondering the strange familiarity of living in a castle contrasted with the just as strange alienness, he noticed something off about the mirror. It was a wall mounted mirror, hung from a stud that jutted out of the stone bricks. The reflective surface was bordered with ornate Argentian silver.

The border had something inscribed in it but before Merlin could fully read and comprehend it, he was distracted by what was _inside_ the mirror. It wasn't his reflection, nor was it the reflection of anything else in the room. Instead the mirror seemed to be filled with a kind of white smoke that swirled like currents of boiling water. Almost as soon as he'd seen it, the smoke cleared and the mirror became like a window onto a scene that appeared to be from the near future.

Merlin saw himself mounting a horse as a concerned Arthur seemed to try to dissuade him from something. The mirror gave no sound, only images, so Merlin could not tell what was being discussed. The scene displayed by the mirror followed future Merlin as he journeyed from Ferroton to some unknown location. The journey played out in a kind of fast forward, cramming a period half as long as the travel time from Ferroton to Embercross into the span of a few hours without losing any details of the journey.

Eventually, the scene in the mirror was replaced by the image of a sword. The sword he saw reminded him of a broadsword, but at the same time, it was unlike any sword he'd ever seen. It was long and slender but, somehow, Merlin could tell it was stronger than any sword forged by men or goblins. The hilt was clearly made from Argentian silver with a single red jewel centered on the crossguards. The handle itself was wrapped in fine leather.

Despite having never seen or held this sword before, Merlin knew it held great power and that it was the key to saving the day at the impending battle of Embercross. Merlin knew he would find it at the end of this journey the mirror had shown him, and he knew, that come morning, it was a journey he would have to begin.

Merlin hurriedly packed his things the next morning making sure he only took what he needed. He would have to pack light so he could hasten his journey. The rebels would leave for Embercross that day leaving Merlin very little time to complete his mission.

The sun had just barely started to peek over the horizon when Merlin left the main castle for the stables. Before he'd left the building, he’d asked Lord Gouedard about the mysterious mirror in his room. The lord was quite perplexed by both the question and the mirror itself replying, “I’ve no idea what you mean. I’ve always just assumed it was an ordinary mirror.”

“Would it be possible for me to keep it?” Merlin had asked.

“I guess,” Gouedard had replied with confusion. “But I’m not sure what you find so interesting about it.”

Now, as Merlin cinched the saddle on the horse he was to take, he heard footsteps approaching. He knew what was coming, and just as he expected, the scene began to play out just as it had in the mirror the night before. “Merlin, what are you doing?” Arthur asked. “We leave for Embercross today, you can't just abandon us.”

“I know you leave today,” Merlin replied. “That's why I have to go and go _now._ And I’m not abandoning you. I will meet you on the battlefield and I'll have with me a weapon that may yet save the day from Morgana's forces.”

“Merlin,” Arthur cried with a combination of exasperation at and concern for his friend. “We’ve been over this.”

“You said last night Arthur that we might think of other ways to deal with this problem and now I have.”

“Right,” Arthur replied sarcastically. “By running off in search of some hidden magic sword that a mirror showed you. Only you don't know exactly what the sword does or where to find it just that you have to trust in the vision that the mirror gave you.”

Merlin looked confusedly at his friend, “How?”

“Cadogan told me everything,” Arthur replied flatly crossing his arms.

Merlin led his horse out of the stables and down the street to the city gate in silence for a moment before saying, “You think I’m mad don't you?”

“I think you're confused and stressed and that you need help,” Arthur replied, uncrossing his arms in a gesture of pleading and reconciliation. “Let me help you Merlin. That's what friends do, they help each other.”

Merlin let that sink in for a moment as they approached the main gate before replying, “You’re right Arthur, friends help each other and that's what I’m going to do for you.” With that Merlin leaped into the saddle and spurred the horse to motion.

The travel was long and hard, but Merlin persevered. He spurred the horse as fast as it would go over hill and dale, stopping only for brief rests primarily to keep the horse from expiring. The light packing helped as the horse was not laden with much more than Merlin's own weight. Merlin traveled for two days before he approached a small wood that he was certain would be the end of his journey. The trees were dense and their ground choking roots and low hanging branches made out a tortuous path to some unknown region in the wood where Merlin knew he would find the sword.

Merlin at first attempted to move the trees using the skills with nature he had learned from his former teacher the last Druid. The trees, however, had other ideas. The trees before him did not part as he had asked them to. Instead, they remained rooted. When he tried again to no avail, Merlin noticed that the trees were unlike any he had ever before encountered. They had a strange quality about them, a quality that told Merlin that they were not of this earth.

“I guess we'll have to do this the hard way,” Merlin remarked, partly to himself and partly to the horse. Merlin lit his wand and began to lead the horse into the wood. Unfortunately, the horse was rather terrified of the ominous wood and balked at having to enter. He broke free of Merlin's hold and ran off, away from the trees. Merlin thought of pursuing but the horse was too fast and soon disappeared over the horizon.

Merlin gulped. From a rational perspective, he knew that the horse wouldn't have been much help to him in the small forest. Still, it would have been comforting to have at least another living thing at his side as he attempted to find his way through the wood.

Pushing aside his anxiety, Merlin walked into the forest, his lit wand held aloft so as to illuminate the path before him. Merlin wandered almost aimlessly over twisted roots and around gnarled branches. Unlike most forests where he could easily get his bearings, he had no sense of direction here. Nor did he have a sense of how much time was passing. The canopy blocked out the sky so completely that the only light he had came from the tip of his wand.

Finally, Merlin came out of the wood and into a clearing in the middle of which was a large lake. At first, Merlin didn't recognize the lake, but off in the distance, in the center of the lake, he saw a small island, on top of which was a large and ancient oak tree. Merlin had found Avalon. The crystal clear waters of the lake reflected the afternoon sun such that the surface sparkled like liquid diamond. The trees on this side of the wood were less sinister than on the outside. A slight breeze drifted through the clearing, churning small waves on the lake surface and causing the grasses and tree branches to sway gently. Avalon was so much better in the flesh than it had been in the strange dream world Merlin had seen it through before. The beauty of the scene almost made Merlin forget why he'd come in the first place.

His awed reverie was interrupted, however, by the sudden emergence of a figure out of the surface of the lake near the lakeshore. Merlin recognized her as his grandmother, the Lady of the Lake. She didn't walk out of the lake, so much as she emerged out of its depths. She stood on the churning lake surface as if it was solid ground and in her hands, she held the sword Merlin had seen in the mirror.

She motioned for him to come closer and Merlin did as she beckoned. “It is good you have come grandchild,” she said. “But I fear that there is little time. Though you probably do not know it, you spent nearly two days wandering the woods that guard the way to Avalon.”

“Two days?” Merlin exclaimed. “Arthur’ll be at Embercross by now! And I haven't even got a horse!”

“Yes, that is unfortunate. As you have probably surmised, that is no ordinary forest. Its purpose is to conceal this lake and thus myself from others. Had I not instructed it to let you in it would have killed you. You horse knew that while the woods would tolerate your passage, they would not tolerate it.

“But fret not Merlin, for there is a way for you to travel from here to Embercross in the blink of an eye.”

“So you can send me there?” Merlin asked.

“I could, but I won't, for doing so would require me to exert so much of my power that it would draw the attention of those in the war I escaped. The one your former master spoke of to you earlier. That is also why I had to lead you here via the mirror rather than send you the sword in a dream the way I gave you the water from my lake.”

“So how am I supposed to get to Arthur in time then?”

“I will instruct the woods to give you a clear path to the outside. From there, you can perform magic that has until now eluded mankind. You shall apparate.”

“Apparate?”

“It is a rather simple process, but at the same time very delicate. It allows one to transport themselves from one point to another almost in an instant. Those of non-magical blood must use many complicated tools to achieve this but those who possess magic can do it by intuition. All it requires is that you carefully envision your destination, whether it be a place or simply by the side of a particular person. Then allow that vision to fill every particle of your being. Finally, spin on your heel and take care to keep your destination clear in your mind.

“You shall then disapparate and an instant later reapparate at your destination. But beware, if you fail to keep your destination clear in your mind, you shall splinter into pieces which will be scattered all the way from here to Embercross.”

After listening to the Lady, Merlin wasn't so sure he wanted to try apparating. Her explanation of how to do it was rather vague and seemingly impossible and the consequences of failure were much too great. After all, how on earth was he supposed to fill “every particle of his being” with a thought? And if he failed to do what did not make sense, he'd be scattered in a million pieces across the entire isle of Argentia.

But he had little choice, time was short and he had to get the sword to Arthur. “Very well,” Merlin replied hesitantly. “It seems I have no choice.”

“Fear not Merlin. I know that you are more than capable of this feat, you just have to focus that clever mind of yours less on the how of the journey and more on the goal, focus on your destination.” With that, she extended the sword to Merlin which he received graciously. As he turned to leave, however, the Lady of the Lake spoke once more before melting back into her watery home. “Merlin,” she said. “Though the mirror through which you saw my vision was useful in this one instance, you would do well to avoid using it in the future. It contains a magic of the most sinister kind. It will try to deceive you and, if it can, kill you.”

As soon as the Lady disappeared beneath the lake leaving Merlin alone with her warning, the woods that guarded Avalon began to part, opening a narrow path to the outside. As they did so, Merlin ran along the path at top speed, carrying the sheathed sword on his back with the strap running from top to bottom across his torso. It was probably an hour before Merlin sprang forth from the other side of the woods with the trees sealing themselves rapidly behind him.

Merlin stopped only briefly to catch his breath before setting himself to the task of performing what he still believed was impossible. He had no time to quibble over what he thought was possible versus what he thought was impossible though. He just had to trust the strange and powerful Lady of the Lake. For the moment, his faith that his grandmother wouldn't lead him astray would have to suffice.

Merlin stood still, tightly gripping the sword close to him with one hand and his wand in the other. He envisioned his destination. He needed to be by his best friend's side. Merlin forced himself not to think about how he'd get there, just to focus only on _there_. Then, clearing all doubt and other thoughts from his mind, Merlin turned on his heel.

Had he not steeled himself beforehand, Merlin would probably have been so surprised by the sensation of disapparating that he would have failed the whole thing and been scattered across the countryside. He felt as if he'd been compressed to the size of a worm and pulled through miles of unimaginably tight spaces in less than a second only to pop out on the other side with a loud crack and a surprisingly gentle landing.

Merlin wasted no time in seeking out Arthur. The melee had already begun and far from winning it, the rebels seemed to have been scattered and were taking heavy casualties. Morgana's reinforcements had already arrived. Merlin wove in between rebel soldiers as quickly as he could, striking down imperial forces with curses as he went.

Finally, Merlin found his friend. “Arthur!” he called rushing to meet the rebel leader who was currently pinned down battling three Saxons at once. Once Merlin got close enough to hit them accurately, with three quick flicks of his wand he disarmed them all, allowing Arthur to go in for the kill.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted in surprise. “What the hell are you doing? How’d you get here?”

“No time!” Merlin replied, shouting over the noise and havoc. “I’ll explain later. Just take this sword and give me yours!” Merlin held out the sword he'd brought from Avalon. At Arthur’s look of complete awe and surprise, Merlin shouted, “Arthur, now!”

Snapping back to reality, Arthur quickly exchanged swords with Merlin and unsheathed the magical sword from Avalon. The instant Arthur raised the naked blade, a tremor went through the battlefield like a ripple on a pond, drawing men's attention to the epicenter as it did. For a moment, the battle ceased and all was eerily still, but Merlin could sense what had happened and knew what was going to happen, perhaps more so than anyone else on the battlefield due to his unique heritage. The sword seemed to have given all the allies of its wielder both renewed strength and courage as well as an unprecedented clarity of mind and strengthened resolve to win the day. The wielder’s enemies, however, were struck with fear and confusion.

The strange awed silence broke when Arthur shouted with more confidence than Merlin had ever thought possible, “On me!”

In a matter of moments the rebel forces began to regroup with Arthur as their rallying point, cutting down any Saxon mercenaries that impeded them. Once the army had rallied, Arthur led them through the now reformed lines of Saxons. Together they charged the enemy, not once breaking ranks. The Saxons on the other hand, scattered like ash in the wind.

As the rebels steadily made their way through the imperial forces, Merlin and Arthur remained side by side. With one hand Merlin would wield the sword that had once been Arthur’s, putting the swordsmanship skills he'd learned from the druid to good use for the first time. With his other hand, he would fire spells at the soldiers. Some he disarmed, others he incarcerated.

Arthur, with the long reach afforded by his new, unbelievably sharp blade, was able to slice through and stab Saxons from a distance. When they would attempt to parry his blade with theirs, it would simply cut the opposing swords in two like a knife through butter, not leaving so much as a nick on his blade.

Finally, the Saxons were able to come out of their magically induced confusion enough to escape the melee and regroup once more. When they did so, however, they did not move to attack again. Instead, they retreated. At last, the day was won. What had nearly been a fatal loss for the rebellion, had been snatched from the jaws of defeat and turned into a resounding victory against far superior numbers and better armaments.

At first, the Saxon retreat was met with raucous cheers. However, the jubilee died down once the price of their victory became clearer. Not all the bodies that lay upon the ground belonged to Saxons. Though the empire had lost many more troops than the rebels, the rebels had still lost men. Though the empire had lost over half their mercenaries, the rebels had still been decimated. Of the nine-tenths that remained, half bore wounds ranging from minor to mortal.

Merlin was not surprised to discover that Cadogan was among the wounded. After the rebels had made their way inside the city and their wounded were moved into the largest inn in Embercross which had become a triage facility, Merlin went to visit him. When he arrived, he found his friend being tended to by Luke. “There he is!” Cadogan shouted when he saw Merlin. “Old Mad Merlin, the Prince of Charms saves the day with yet another crackpot solution.”

Had Merlin not known that Cadogan was speaking in jest, he would have been wounded by the comments. As it was, he merely smiled in reply. “So how's your patient holding up Luke?” Merlin asked.

“I think the better question is how am I holding up,” Luke replied. “As usual he’s been extremely difficult despite the fact that he is severely injured and in need of treatment.”

“Nonsense Luke,” Cadogan replied. “I’m perfectly fine. Except for this cut on my upper lip.” On Cadogan’s upper lip was a deep red gash where he'd been grazed by an arrow. “I figure it’ll probably scar. Can you imagine me Merlin? How silly I’d look with that thing hanging about on my upper lip?” Merlin could only chuckle. “I’ll have to grow a mustache to cover it up.”

“I think you’d still look silly with a mustache,” Merlin replied.

“Yeah, but I’d look less silly.”

“Enough with the banter, both of you,” Luke scolded. “Cadogan needs to rest.”

“How many times do I have to say it? I'm fine,” Cadogan protested.

Despite all his bluster, however, Cadogan did look to be in a pretty bad way. He had multiple cuts all over, some shallow and some deep. In addition to that, the bruises from where he had been pummeled in the battle were starting to appear. He looked like one big, open wound. Merlin was convinced that the only reason he'd made it had been because of his innate toughness and capacity for sheer bluster.

Luke was equally unconvinced by Cadogan’s assertions and as soon as he'd finished with the last of his wounds pointed his wand at his friend and incanted, “ _Somnus_.” Cadogan, promptly fell asleep, knocked out by the unexpected power of the spell.

It was at that moment that General Evawn tapped Merlin's shoulder. “We're meeting in ten minutes Merlin, it's about that sword you brought back. The others figured you should come too Luke but we understand that you have wounded to tend to as well.”

“Indeed I do,” Luke replied. “And that's a task I should get back to as soon as possible. Besides, I wouldn't be of much help to you. I know very little about magic weapons of any kind.”

Merlin followed Evawn to what was was once the throne room of the Lord of Embercross. The room had been repurposed as a council chamber by General Evawn who, since the execution of the royal family by Morgana, had become the closest thing the city state had to a sovereign.

In the center of the room sat a table surrounded by a number of chairs. One for each of the rebel leaders plus a few spares. No one was seated, however. Everyone stood around the table, fixated on the object it bore. Merlin knew what it was before he even reached the gathering but he still felt awed in its presence. Resting on the table, was the sword he had brought from Avalon, its naked blade glinting in the flickering torchlight and rapidly fading daylight. Down its center was inscribed the name “Excalibur”.

“Merlin,” Arthur began when he arrived at the table. “We were hoping you could do some explaining.”

For a moment, Merlin couldn’t speak, he was transfixed by the sword. Finally he replied, not shifting his gaze from the blade, “What do you want to know?”

“How about how you got it for starters,” Lord Seraph replied snidely.

Unphased by the annoying lord’s jab, Merlin launched into his story of how he’d been led to the sword and what had transpired when he’d found it. He took care to omit, however, his relationship to the one who had bestowed it upon him, something that he hoped Cadogan and Luke could be counted on to keep secret as well. He told himself that he chose to keep his relationship to the Lady of the Lake secret because he feared that he would be thought mad by the already suspicious rebel leaders. There was, however, a deeper reason, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, at least not yet.

“So, to sum up,” Lord Seraph began after Merlin had finished his tale. “A mirror told you where to get this sword, at which point you went to a secret forest that’s not on any map and a water clad tart threw the sword at you which you promptly got to Arthur only seconds after receiving it.”

“She wasn’t a water clad tart,” Lady Easton replied pointedly. “She was clearly some kind of magical water spirit.” Though he knew that the lady’s description of his grandmother wasn’t particularly accurate, Merlin did nothing to correct her as the description was close enough.

“So you don’t actually know anything about what the sword actually does,” asked Lord Aquila.

“I do a little bit,” Merlin replied. “On the battlefield, when it was first drawn, I could feel its power, and I think you could too. I think that, in a general sense, it plays with the emotions and minds of those in its presence. The allies of its wielder will be calmed and mentally strengthened while the opposite will happen to his opponents.”

“What a load of tripe,” Seraph interjected.

“Seraph,” Evawn replied. “Just because you’re too stubborn and dense to figure this out doesn’t mean that’s not what happened. That’s exactly what we observed during the battle. As soon as the sword was drawn, we were able to turn the confusion, terror, and chaos of our losing battle into their opposites, while the Saxons were cowed by the very same powers that gave us strength.”

“And how, Evawn, could you tell what was going through the Saxon’s minds?” Seraph returned.

“If you were paying attention Seraph, you would have seen it in the way they behaved and in their eyes.”

Lord Seraph had no reply but the tension hanging in the air could be felt as easily as the table around which everyone was gathered. After a few minutes, Merlin broke the awkward silence, “Like I said, I don't know for sure, to be certain, we’d need an expert in magical weaponry.”

“Like who?” asked Hutmorda, who’d been silent until now.

“Like a goblin,” Merlin replied.

This prompted an incredulous outburst from everyone present. “You can't be serious!” exclaimed Lord Aquila. “Goblins are the most disagreeable race of creatures on the earth. You can't expect us to work with them. The greedy bastards will probably try to claim the sword as theirs and take it for themselves!”

“I’ll concede that goblins have bizarre ideas about property and that they're generally to be avoided,” Merlin replied, shouting over the rabble of voices in an attempt to silence them and be heard. “But,” Merlin continued more quietly when the assembled leaders had calmed down. “I don't see that we really have any other opinions. Unless you happen to know of any other experts in magical metalwork.”

“How about this ‘Lady’ that gave you the damn thing in the first place,” Lord Seraph retorted.

Merlin was finally fed up with Seraph’s obnoxious behavior. “What an excellent idea Seraph,” Merlin replied sarcastically. “Perhaps you would like to help me find her again and brave the man eating forest that guards her realm with me.” For once the Lord seemed cowed into silence. “That being said,” Merlin continued, now clearly in command of the meeting and yet fully aware of the cautious and somewhat concerned looks he was getting from the other leaders, especially Arthur. “We don't really need to know what else the sword is capable of at the moment, only that it works.”

“But there are many questions about it that need to be answered,” Lord Hutmorda protested. “Questions that are critical to using its power safely and effectively. For example, how do we know how to use it properly? What if we use it wrong and it _loses_ us the battle? Or worse, what if it has a will of its own, or is cursed and will ultimately cause our demise? What if it's like Skofnung?”

“You can rest easy Hutmorda,” Lady Easton replied. “If the sword was like Skofnung, our great king over there would be dead by now since he's drawn it in my presence twice now. This prompted a chuckle from everyone present save the perpetually dour Lord Seraph and Lord Hutmorda who was, essentially, the butt of the Lady's joke.

“This is not something to make light of,” Hutmorda insisted. “Why should we trust this Lady of the Lake?”

Now Merlin replied with a gravity and seriousness that conveyed the importance of his message, “Because I trust her, I would trust her with my life if it came to it. In fact, I already have trusted her with it.”

A moment of silence passed before Arthur clapped his hand on Merlin's shoulder and said, “And I would trust you with mine.”

“That's good enough for me,” General Evawn replied. There were a number of nods of agreement from around the table. Some were as enthusiastic as Evawn, others more cautious like Lord Aquila. At first Merlin was both relieved and joyed that the rebel leaders would take him at his word. But then guilt and doubt crept out of the depths of his conscience. These people didn't really know him, at least not as well as they thought they did. They didn't know that he'd nearly lost it and killed someone who’d once been a dear friend out of malice. Worst of all, however, Arthur, his best friend, had vouched for him, and he'd done it without knowing Merlin's darkest secret. He'd done it without knowing that Merlin was responsible for his mother’s death.

Merlin remained distracted by his thoughts the rest of the night. Once again there was merriment, but there was also a solemnity in the air. Yes they'd won a great victory, but it had been costlier than the last one. A vigil to honor the dead was held before the festivities. Soldiers and townsfolk alike attended to pay their respects. Merlin paid little attention to either, not that you could have noticed just by looking at him.

Arthur and Luke, however, knew Merlin well enough that they could tell something was up. They attempted to confront him, but thankfully, though they were familiar with his tricks, Merlin was still able to use them to great effect to avoid them the whole night.

Though Merlin's conscience still buzzed the following morning, he was much more himself. Of course, Arthur still tried to confront him and managed to corner him before they walked into the council chamber for the war room. “Merlin,” he said sternly. “What's going on? What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Merlin replied with the skill of a master liar. At the disbelieving look on his friend's face Merlin insisted, “Seriously Arthur, I’m fine.”

“Something was wrong with you last night Merlin. It's like you weren't even there. And then you just disappeared.”

“It was nothing Arthur,” Merlin replied. “I was just tired. After all, I’d just ridden for two days, wandered through a killer forest for another two and then apparated to the battlefield on barely two nights’ sleep. But, I’m better now.”

Arthur still looked unconvinced, but he realized that he wasn't going to get anything more out of Merlin so he let the matter drop. “Okay Merlin,” he said. “Just as long as you're in good enough shape to contribute to our battle plans.”

“Yes your highness,” Merlin jested, giving his friend a facetious bow.

“Cut it out;” Arthur replied, unable to keep a smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth as the memories of his summers sneaking about with Merlin came to mind unbidden but not entirely unwelcome. “Now come, let's get on with it, we have a rebellion to win.”

Merlin followed Arthur into the war room where the rest of the leaders were already waiting. The meeting began with more mundane issues for once. Issues like supplies and armaments. While they were certainly important things to discuss, especially now that they had the resources of both Ferroton and Embercross with which to make proper weapons and armor, it was clear that they were just beating around the bush. Finally Merlin decided to address the elephant in the room. “What about the mercenary commander and what he told us?” As soon as he'd asked it, there was dead silence around the table and Merlin knew exactly why.

When they had first arrived in the castle, the imperial mercenaries had put up no resistance. Merlin remembered how they'd looked, standing at attention in the main courtyard when the rebels had arrived. When asked by Lord Aquila why they'd chosen to simply lay down their arms, their commander had replied, “We prefer to surrender and live rather than to die fighting for a witch who will soon be unable to pay for our blood.” When asked how he could be sure he and his men wouldn't simply be executed the way they'd executed so many Argentians he said, “Our high commander Frederick van Alrick is disheartened with the self proclaimed empress and if persuaded, will negotiate both for our release and for peace with the rebellion.”

“How do we know he's telling the truth?” Lord Aquila asked, finally breaking the silence that had been induced by Merlin's question.

“We don't,” replied Lady Easton.

“If you ask me,” Evawn added, “he’s not to be trusted. We should just execute him and all his men right now. They’re only draining our resources, resources that we need for _our_ men. Keeping them alive is a tactically bad move,” the general added bitterly.

“And if it turns out that what he says is true?” Lord Aquila asked. “Then we’d be sacrificing an opportunity to end this war quickly with as little additional bloodshed as possible. Doing _that_ would be an even worse tactical move.”

“I don't think it's worth the risk,” Evawn replied evenly.

“For once,” Lord Seraph interjected, “I agree with the commoner.” Evawn’s only response was a disgusted sidelong glance at the Lord who stood immediately adjacent to him.

“There might be a way to determine if he's telling the truth,” Merlin said. “But I’d need the right ingredients and it's going to take a while.”

“How long of a while,” Arthur asked.

“A month, give or take,” Merlin replied.

“We don’t have a month,” Lord Hutmorda said. “The longer we wait, the longer Morgana has to rebuild her forces.”

“We don’t have any option but to wait,” Lord Aquila pointed out. “We lost too many men in the last battle. We need time to recover and fortunately, so does Morgana. Even though our losses were about equal in relative terms, in absolute terms, she lost more men.”

“And she’s lost two very important cities in terms of the resources needed to maintain an army,” Arthur pointed out. “Add that to the fact she’s using mercenaries rather than people who are devoted to her cause and I think we can safely say that she’s going to have more of struggle recovering than we are since she’ll also have to deal with more desertions.”

“So what do we do then,” Evawn asked.

“We give Merlin his time,” Arthur replied. “How soon can you get on this plan of yours?”

“Right away,” Merlin replied.

“Then I suggest we all get on with our tasks,” Arthur finished, signalling the end of the meeting.

Everyone in attendance broke apart and proceeded to wherever their assigned tasks were to be completed. Merlin paid little attention to where everyone else went and what they were doing and focused exclusively on getting his task done as quickly as possible. He rushed to his chambers and flipped through an old potions book that he had duplicated from the Hogwarts library. He quickly skimmed the pages until he found what he was looking for. Veritaserum.

Merlin had never made the potion before and it looked quite complicated and he wasn’t sure he could find all the ingredients in Embercross. He figured that he’d probably have to travel to find them all. If he wanted to get the potion done in time, he’d have to shorten his travel time by apparating when he could. He didn’t like the thought of having to use the dangerous and uncomfortable mode of travel so frequently but at least it would give him an opportunity to practice a skill that he may have to use again in the future.

Over the month long period that it took for Merlin to brew the potion the rebel army recovered quite well. Thanks to the farmers of both Ferroton and Embercross, they now had enough food to keep the army going without having to raid the enemy. They could now also replace their old, mismatched, and in some cases outdated armaments for new steel ones. Thanks to the ministrations of Luke and the other physicians, the wounded recovered quickly from their injuries. All this while, Morgana had also been playing cautiously and recovering. Throughout the whole month, not a single attack had come from the imperial mercenaries.

As it happened, it was fortuitous that the completion of the potion coincided with the recovery of the rebel army. The night the veritaserum was completed, Merlin informed Arthur who immediately summoned the other leaders. Cadogan, who had now recovered from his extensive injuries, was also in attendance. They had the guards bring in the Saxon commander and bind him to one of the chairs in the council chamber. Before they'd done so, however, Merlin warned that no one should do anything to let the man know that he was going to be put under the influence of the powerful truth serum so as to ensure maximum effectiveness.

When Merlin administered it, he did so discreetly. They'd made no pretense as to why they'd brought the man from his cell. They did indeed wish to discuss his earlier statements regarding their high commander. They even made a show of having a diplomatic meeting, bindings excepted of course, complete with refreshments. This was how Merlin gave him the veritaserum. Just a few drops slipped into his beverage every time he asked for it to be refilled.

To Merlin's relief, it worked. The Saxon’s tongue had become so loosened by the potion and by the drink that by dinner’s end he was spilling secrets that Merlin doubted he would have spoken to even his closest confidants. Among the things that were said, was the very thing that they had hoped to discover. The Saxon was telling the truth about being able to negotiate with the mercenaries’ high commander, or, at least he thought he was.

This presented the next problem for the leaders. What if the Saxon was wrong? Or what if the situation had simply changed over the past month such that this Frederick van Alrick was no longer in the mood to negotiate? On the one hand it was still risky to pursue negotiations, but on the other it was too good an opportunity to forego.

Thus, Merlin developed a solution. He would seek out this van Alrick himself. He would go to Camelot where Morgana and the mercenary commander were stationed and he would sneak into the castle in search of the commander. In case anything went wrong, they would hide a small force of their best men in the small forest just outside the city as well as sneak some of their best covert operatives into the city as support. It was a dangerous mission, but given what could be gained by success, the leaders deemed it necessary.

They assembled the small band that day and left at sunset the following day, taking care to travel only by night and to do so through the Forest of Essetir as much as was possible. The troupe was led by Merlin, Arthur, and Cadogan. Arthur had instructed that should things go awry, Lord Aquila was to take charge of the rebel forces and develop a contingency plan.

When they finally reached their destination, they camped in the small forest just outside the city that had once been Merlin’s home. Merlin, once again making use of his newly learned magical skill, apparated directly into the castle. His feet touched the soft ground of the courtyard where he’d first introduced Arthur and Guinevere. Just being in the place made him feel almost painfully nostalgic. His heart yearned for a time when things were simpler, a time before he had to keep secrets from his best friend, a time before he’d taken anyone’s life.

Merlin shook his head and cleared his thoughts. He had a job to do. He needed to focus on finding this Frederick van Alrick. The sooner he did, the sooner the bloodshed could be ended. Merlin cast a disillusionment charm over himself and began to sneak about the castle. Even when magically concealed, this was no simple feat. The place was crawling with guards. It seemed that most of the Saxon forces had been drawn back to the Empire’s base of operations.

For what seemed like hours, Merlin caught neither hide nor hair of the Saxon commander, or anyone in command for that matter. Then, he overheard one of the Saxon mercenaries talking with another. The one mercenary looked like he was a lower level officer in the mercenary army while the other one appeared to much higher ranking based on his attire. He didn’t catch the whole conversation, but to Merlin it sounded as if the two were well acquainted. “The ‘Empress’ is too inept to conquer this land let alone hold it,” the higher ranking one said to the other. “If she thinks she can retain our services through fear, she has another thing coming.”

“So we are leaving then?” the other asked.

“Not just yet. Whether we stay hinges on whether we can put down this rebellion and that will only happen if she relinquishes full command authority to me. That includes what happens after the rebellion is quashed. Right now she’s mulling it over because she knows that she can’t win this without our services but if she keeps us then she will become empress in name only.”

Merlin’s heart leapt. He’d finally found who he was looking for. Now all he needed was for the commander to be alone, then he could reveal himself. Merlin followed the two to van Alrick’s chambers where the lower ranking commander left him, presumably for the night. Merlin was getting ready to make his move when he was unexpectedly struck with a sackful of flour.

He was momentarily taken by surprise but eventually it became clear what was happening. Merlin spun around in the direction that the “attack” had come from, ready to defend himself, fully aware that his disillusionment charm had been rendered useless. Behind him were a number of guards who came charging at the snow white figure that stood before them. Merlin expertly disarmed and disabled them and was making to escape when he found his path blocked by none other than the Empress herself.

He moved to attack her but she was too quick. She struck him with a stunner and he fell to the ground, unconscious. Merlin awakened in the throne room of camelot. The banners of Whitecastle and Pendragon no longer hung from the walls. Instead the banner of the white dragon in the darkness, the banner of the Empire hung there.

“You know,” a voice began. Merlin could tell it was a woman’s voice, but he still couldn’t think quite clearly enough to figure out whose it was or where it was coming from. Eventually though, he focused on Morgana, who sat on the throne of Camelot. “I was planning on just killing you at first. But then I remembered something an old Welshman told me once. About a crazy blonde boy with blue eyes and a talent for charms, especially _one_ of his own invention, a disarming charm. He called you Myrddin Emrys. He even told me that you had run off with his son on some crazy adventure to fight my Empire.

“Then I started thinking, what other ‘Myrddins’ do I know. Oh yes, Myrddin Wylt. Rather clever of you really, but a little trusting don’t you think? Did you really think this Cadogan wouldn’t give you up? So, I decided that I would keep you instead. It would be quite the morale booster to have finally caught the elusive Myrddin Wylt. Not a woodland spirit, but rather a foolish child trying to extinguish flames he couldn’t control. I was going to execute you publicly too.

“But then, another thought occurred to me. What if Myrddin Emrys wasn’t actually your name? You see, when I first landed, there was this page who ran about the castle, trying to alert people to my invasion. Belerothon I think was his name. When I finally caught up to him, he was going on about someone named Merlin Ambrosius. How he would be the key to saving the city. Apparently, this Merlin was quite close with a certain Arthur Pendragon, now effectively Lord of Camelot, and who has apparently become quite an influential figure in the rebellion.

“So your name isn’t Myrddin, is it? No, it’s Merlin. Myrddin is just what the Welsh call you. Thus, I concluded that my prize was even greater than I had before imagined. I now have someone who can hand me the rebellion on a silver platter.”

“You’re wrong,” Merlin replied defiantly. “I haven’t seen Arthur in years. Not since his father had me arrested for sorcery.”

“Is that so?” Morgana trilled. “That’s not what my soldiers who survived your assault on Embercross say. They told me of a rather ferocious fighter and a sorcerer with unmatched skill in charms, _including_ disarming charms. This fighter very closely matched your description. And he fought shoulder to shoulder with the rebel leader Arthur.” Merlin remained silent.

“Not feeling talkative tonight?” Morgana asked mockingly. “That’s okay, maybe a little persuasion.” Merlin felt the two guards who held him move to physically harm him but Morgana held up her hand as a signal to stop. “No need to get physical,” she said. “At least not _that_ kind of physical.” She rose from the throne and slowly approached Merlin. Merlin could tell that every movement she made as she approached him was intended to accentuate her figure, to draw his attention to what he could not deny was a beautiful body.

“You won’t get me to do it,” he said defiantly as she continued to approach. “I won’t betray Arthur, and no attempt at seduction is going to change that.”

Morgana continued to advance, not missing a beat. “Oh but Merlin,” she whispered softly in his ear when she reached him. “I don’t _have_ to try to seduce you. I know you aren’t interested in power, at least not anymore, unless it’s the power to save your friends. You thought it was an awful experience you had, when your powerlust and pain nearly got poor Charles killed.” A small pang of fear ran through Merlin as it occurred to him that the witch somehow knew of his past. “But _really_ Merlin, would it have really been so bad if he’d died? He was such a pitiful thing to begin with. Killing him would have been a mercy. Your mentor Slytherin knew what he was talking about. Such arts and powers are not to be feared but rather harnessed.”

Morgana now drew back and looked him square in the face as she wrapped her hands gently around the back of his neck. She smiled somewhat malevolently but also seductively as she said more loudly so that everyone could hear, “That’s right Merlin, I know your thoughts. Not all of them admittedly, but more and more of them by the minute. I know about Charles, and Slytherin.” She moved in to whisper in his other ear this time, “But I also know you’re carrying a great many pains with you. I can help with those pains Merlin... Especially the one called, _Helena_...” she let the word hang between them as Merlin realized that he had not, in fact, gotten over her yet. The hurt of her toying with and subsequent disposal of him still remained and Morgana was using that, as well as the promise of a resolution to it, to break into his mind. What was worse, was Merlin could feel it working. Bit by bit, piece by piece, he was giving into Morgana without consciously doing so and despite his efforts at occlumency.

Merlin fought it, but it grew more difficult as Morgana continued to tempt him. He desperately wanted to give in, but at the same time, he knew that he couldn’t. “I can help you Merlin,” she whispered tenderly. “All you have to do is give me Arthur. Together, we can share this Empire, and... _more_. We can share a bed, even a life, a home. We can share our pain. Uther wronged us both, the house of Pendragon wronged us both. We can share in the final victory against it. Helena denied you Merlin, but I won’t.”

By this point, Merlin had become so distracted by both Morgana and his internal conflict, that he didn’t even notice that the guards no longer restrained him. Merlin now had to accept that he was no match for Morgana’s legilimens and her silver tongued seduction. But he couldn’t give up. Instead, he would have to use his wits to beat her and he would have to do it fast, before he no longer had any wits to use. “Fine,” he said, unable to hold back any longer. “Yes, I’ll give you Arthur. But you must vow not to injure or kill him, and that goes for your men as well.”

Morgana drew back. “He matters that much to you does he?” Morgana asked. “Very well, you have my word.”

“No,” Merlin insisted. “Swear it on your father’s honor. Swear by Gorlois that you won’t harm him.”

For a moment Morgana hesitated but then she said “I swear on my father Gorlois’s honor that neither I nor any one of my men will kill or injure Arthur Pendragon.”

Merlin waited for a moment after she said it, just to make sure that he had done it right, even without his wand. That Arthur was protected. Then, unable to hold back any longer he gave in to Morgana.


	13. Victory Through Deceit

# Victory Through Deceit

Merlin awoke the next morning to find that what he’d experienced the previous night was not some bizarre but pleasurable dream. Lying next to him in the early morning light was Morgana, still asleep. Merlin felt ashamed of what he’d done, but he knew that it was something he couldn’t have resisted. For all his skill and power with magic, he was still weak, unable to resist his baser instincts. In giving in, he had almost surrendered his best friend and the whole of the rebellion with him. Almost.

Fortunately, he was also clever and quick witted. If he made haste, he could yet save things from the looming catastrophe caused by his sin of the flesh. Merlin still didn’t have his wand, but for many things he didn’t actually need it, and he could find it easily. For now, he took Morgana’s which lay unguarded on her side table. He directed it at her and muttered, “ _Somnus._ ” Though she had been in the process of waking beforehand, she fell once again into a deep sleep. Merlin then used her wand to cast a patronus which he used to send a message to his spies in the city and then to summon Archimedes. When Archimedes arrived, he hastily scrawled a note to Arthur and sent the owl off to deliver it.

Merlin then carefully set the wand back on Morgana’s side table and dressed. Fortunately, few people were about the castle at this time and he was able to creep around unseen even without his concealment charms. As he snuck about the castle, he reached into the deepest part of himself and mustered all his knowledge of and connection to nature to locate his wand. Through his skill with nature he found the ancient and powerful oak that constituted its wood and through his being he found the core that was his undying grandmother’s hair. Merlin found that his wand was heavily guarded, but that the guards had also been heavily drinking, apparently prematurely celebrating their victory over the rebellion. Not one guard was conscious enough to keep Merlin from his property.

Once Merlin had taken his wand back, he proceeded towards the chambers of the man who’d been his original target, Frederick van Alrick. When Merlin reached his door, he deftly unlocked it and quietly stepped across the threshold. Apparently he had not been quiet enough since as soon as he got in a bolt of light flew from the chamber’s bed toward his head. Merlin barely had time to duck out of the way before another flew at him.

A duel had ensued, but Merlin knew that he couldn’t be discovered by anyone else and so, before moving to defend himself, which he did quite well, he cast a dome of silence over the two dueling parties. For several minutes there was a back and forth of hexes, jinxes, and curses. Finally, Merlin got the upper hand and managed to disarm the mercenary commander. Before Frederick could reach for his blade Merlin shouted, “Wait! I’m not here to harm you! My name is Merlinus Ambrosius and I’m here to negotiate.”

“I know full well who you are,” Frederick snapped as he drew his blade and held it at the ready. “I also know that you’ve just betrayed the rebellion so there’s nothing to negotiate.”

“You’re wrong. I haven’t betrayed the rebellion,” Merlin replied.

“Oh please, you gave up your precious King Arthur to the Empress and the whole rebellion with him.”

Merlin grew somewhat concerned that Morgana had already somehow told her mercenaries of the secrets she had wrested from his mind but he reminded himself that he had to look like he had the upper hand. “Did she tell you that?” Merlin asked still pointing his wand at the other wizard, ready for another attack from him.

“Admittedly no, I heard it from my men.”

“And did they tell you where Arthur was?”

“Again, no.”

“So then,” Merlin replied. “How do you know that I actually gave him up? I could have simply given Morgana some misinformation to send her on a wild goose chase. Or maybe it’s a trap.”

“If that’s the case, then why are you here?”

“To negotiate and end to the war. I know that you aren’t loyal to the Empress. I heard your conversation yesterday, right before I was captured. You’re a mercenary so all you’re interested in is the money and Morgana’s not been paying you enough for the losses you’re sustaining. So you understandably want out. Well so do we, so why don’t we bypass Morgana entirely and settle it right here and right now.”

The Saxon seemed to consider Merlin’s proposal for a moment before nodding. “Very well. But you’re wrong Master Ambrosius, money’s not all I care about. I care about my men, and my reputation. They trust me to bring them victory and plunder with a minimum of casualties.”

“All the more reason to negotiate. The longer this war drags out, the more both sides lose both in coin and blood.”

“So what do you want? Aside from our surrender.”

“We want you to leave, and never return, and we want you to do it immediately.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Really?” Merlin asked incredulously. “The war ends, you don’t lose any more men.” At the Saxon’s unconvinced expression, Merlin continued, “And we release all those of your men we are currently holding prisoner.”

That got Frederick’s attention. “How many of them are you holding?”

Merlin was glad he’d taken count before he’d left for Camelot, otherwise he would have had to make something up on the spot which would have weakened his position. “Over ten thousand between Ferroton and Embercross.”

“What about our pay? Morgana has yet to pay all of what she promised.”

“And she won’t ever pay it all,” Merlin replied. “You have no claim on silver from Argentian mines. You’re lucky to get to leave with what you’ve already gotten from her.”

“Unacceptable--”

“You’d better accept it,” Merlin replied. “Or else you’ll be fighting this war even longer and don’t forget which of us has the upper hand right now. If you refuse to accept our really quite generous terms, I could kill you right here and now. Cut the head off the snake while I can and flee back to the rebellion before your men had a chance to fight back.”

“You wouldn’t kill me,” Frederick replied smugly. “You don’t have the stomach for it, if you did you would have just killed me rather than putting on this show of negotiation first.”

“I want to negotiate because I’d rather not kill unless I have to, but make no mistake _Saxon_ , if you think I don’t have the stomach for killing, remember how many of your men have been slaughtered in forests by the elusive ‘Myrddin Wylt’.”

The Saxon’s expression instantly became less smug, telling Merlin that the news of the “spirit’s” true identity had already traveled through the ranks of the mercenary army. “Very well,” he replied. “But how can I be certain that you’ll honor your part of the agreement and release my men?”

“Are you familiar with the sacred vow?” Merlin asked.

“Only vaguely, I am more familiar with the unbreakable vow which as I understand it is simpler and has far more immediate consequences for those who break it. As such I would prefer that to the ancient hocus pocus that you seem to favor.”

“Why?” Merlin asked. “It’s still a binding magical contract.”

“Perhaps, but how would I know if you’ve done it right? Seeing as I’m not _nearly_ as familiar with it as you are.”

“Seeing as _I’m_ not familiar with the unbreakable vow I could ask you the same thing,” Merlin returned.

“Then perhaps a compromise is in order.”

“Very well,” Merlin replied after thinking for some time. “We do both. You do your unbreakable vow and I do my sacred one. You and your men leave here, never to return as warriors. You get to keep only what you’ve been paid thus far and all your men that we are currently holding prisoner shall be released.”

“I think that we have our agreement,” Frederick replied with a bit of a smile.

***

The sun was directly overhead now as Merlin stood on the front steps of the castle. Before him stood the rebel army that had been hiding in the forest just outside the city. They were kneeling before the steps and surrounded by men dressed in Saxon armor. Arthur was positioned at the front of the small army, his expression hard and defiant.

In a few moments, a somewhat irate Morgana came out the front door of the castle. “So it looks like you’ve already captured them, well done van Alrick. I assume Merlin told you where the rebels were?”

“Yes Merlin,” replied.

“Good.” Morgana now turned to the gathered rebels. “So, this is what we’ve been fighting. Nothing more than a rag tag band of hooligans and peasants. Except for you,” she now fixed her gaze on Arthur who remained silent. “Tell me, Pendragon,” she spat. “How does it feel to know that you’ve been betrayed by one you called friend? No, more than friend, _brother_.”

“Merlin hasn’t betrayed us,” Arthur replied defiantly.

“Oh but he has!” Morgana replied, smiling viciously, enjoying every moment of her victory. “And he did it for little more than a night with me.” At the continued expression of defiance on Arthur’s face she asked, “Don’t believe me? I’ll have him brought here and he can confess his betrayal to you himself.” Morgana turned from the rebels now and commanded, “van Alrick, go find Merlin and bring him here.”

“But he is already here,” one of the soldiers in Saxon armor replied.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to glare in the direction of the soldiers but uncertain as to who had spoken. “I believe you are mistaken, both in that you may speak to me in such a manner and in that he is here, for he is quite evidently _not_ here.”

“Oh but he is,” Arthur replied. Now it was his turn to smile. “You thought you had him, didn’t you,” Arthur said. “But one thing you learn about Merlin growing up with him, he’s exceedingly tricky. I’d say Morgana, that you’ve been had, probably three times now.”

Merlin took this as his cue to step forward. “van Alrick isn’t here Morgana,” Merlin said loudly as he drew his wand. “He hasn’t been here for hours, nor have any of his men.”

“What are you talking about?” she snapped. “Have you lost your mind? If I have no more mercenaries here then who are these men holding the rebels captive.”

“Not mercenaries,” Merlin replied “bit short for Saxons don’t you think?” This prompted Morgana to turn back to the soldiers before her. When she did so, Merlin began to remove the enchantments he’d placed on himself as his disguise. When Morgana turned back, the fear of what might be happening turned to realization of what actually _was_ happening as she saw the figure of Frederick van Alrick, the Saxon commander, dissolve before her to be replaced by the figure of Merlinus Ambrosius, the rebel trickster.

“You’ve lost Morgana,” Merlin said, looking her straight in the eye. “Surrender and leave, just like the rest of your empire has.”

“No.” It was one word but it conveyed all the emotional and psychological instability of the failed empress. “NO!” she said more loudly as she drew her wand. “You’ve lost, I can just kill Arthur and his men right here and now!” At this, all the rebel soldiers jumped to the ready and drew their weapons, including those who had dressed as Saxons.

“No you won’t,” Merlin replied. “You made a vow, a _sacred_ vow that you swore upon your father and my mentor Gorlois.”

“Hah! Has it never occurred to you that people can break their vows? Promises are meaningless! They’re no more than words strung together to fool others that you’re somehow noble. All that matters is power. That’s the only way to truly get what you want.”

“People can break their vows Morgana,” Merlin replied. “But not without consequence.”

“Oh, so you think you can defeat me? We saw how that worked out last time when you were captured didn’t we. You may have been able to best that lousy Saxon but I will not be so easy.”

“I’ve already bested you Morgana. As I said, it was a sacred vow. Ancient magic that holds you to your word. Neither you nor anyone you employ to do your bidding can lay a finger on Arthur ever again. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you try it?”

For a moment, everyone simply stood rooted and on edge as Morgana appeared to be deciding if Merlin was bluffing. He hadn’t had a wand at the time he’d bound her, but Merlin was still confident that it had worked. Now, Morgana was proving him right, try as she did to turn her wand on Arthur, something always prevented her from doing so. Eventually she cried out in exasperation.

“You’re defeated Morgana,” Merlin repeated. “Now go!”

Morgana glared at Merlin, the trickster, the Prince of Charms who had bested her so decisively that she had no recourse but to do as he said. In an instant she transformed herself into a bird and flew off. For a moment after, there was silence. Then, once the reality of what had happened finally settled in, after it had finally sunk in that the war was truly over, a joyous cheer went up among the rebels who were present. Together they rushed Merlin to congratulate him on the success of the mission.

After a few moments of being smothered by soldiers, Arthur intervened on Merlin’s behalf, “Alright, alright, give him some space. He may be an amazing sorcerer but he’s still human, he still needs air.” As the throng of soldiers parted, Merlin and Arthur shared a smile. They’d finally won. The whole island was now free, but even better, after so many years, they were home. Arthur then turned to one of his men whom Merlin recognized as Bedivere from their childhood. “Bedivere,” Arthur said. “Go through the town, tell the townspeople that the war is over, the Saxons are gone. Tell them that Camelot is free, no, that the whole damn island is free!”

“With pleasure your highness,” Bedivere replied with an equally victorious smile on his face, before dashing off to shout the good news through the streets of his home.

“Now the rest of you!” Arthur shouted. “Let’s tear down the banners of the enemy and be done with it!”

“I’ll send word to the other Lords,” Merlin said. “Tell them that we’ve won and that they’re to put the Saxons on ships back to the Holy Roman Empire immediately.”

With that, the rebels stormed the castle and along with the servants who’d just received the good news, began tearing down the symbols of Morgana’s reign. The banners with the white dragon were torn from their places in the throne room and were later burned in the town square along with all the other vestiges of the empire. By nightfall, the news had reached every other city in Argentia and similar scenes could be found everywhere the Saxons had left behind.

As the jubilation continued into the night, Merlin and Arthur sat alone together in the dining room they had shared so many years ago. They ate very little, they weren’t particularly hungry and despite the fact that nearly everyone else was getting blackout drunk, they consumed very little ale. They simply sat in relative silence with the only sound coming from outside. Now they had won, their thoughts turned to the future.

Arthur was the first to speak. “I’m thinking of marrying Guinevere,” he said. “I’ll send for her in the morning, if she hasn’t already started travelling after receiving the good news at Embercross.”

“That’s wonderful Arthur,” Merlin replied. His reply, however, was somewhat unenthusiastic, and Arthur knew why. “I failed you Arthur,” he said. “I know you didn’t believe that I betrayed you, but for a brief moment, I did. Had I not thought quickly enough, had I not been able to trick her...”

“I know Merlin,” Arthur replied. “But we _did_ win.”

“Yes, yes we did... But it just goes to show Arthur, as much as I try to be strong, to be good, I’m still weak.”

“Merlin,” Arthur placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’re not weak. You’ve endured immense pain and even when she tried to use that against you, you still managed to prevail. You may not be strong in the same ways that I am, or Cadogan is, but you are _not_ weak. I guarantee you, if I’d been put in your shoes, I wouldn’t have been able to think that quickly.”

Merlin simply nodded in acknowledgement of his friend’s consolation. “You know Arthur,” he finally said after sitting silent for another long moment. “We may have won, but we’re not out of the woods yet.”

“I know,” Arthur replied.

“There’s so much that needs to be done. And not just here in Camelot either. The whole island may have won its freedom, but that doesn’t mean it’ll keep it. The whole island’s lost probably half its population to the plague and then the war. We’ve hardly enough to fend off the Vikingr who will undoubtedly continue their raids without so much as noticing that any war happened here at all aside from the fact that it’d be easier for them to take what they wanted. And the island undoubtedly looks like an easy kill to the other European powers. England will certainly have designs on us.”

“We need a strong defense.”

“You know that to do that Arthur, we’ll need the support of the other Lords. If the whole island is to be defended then the whole island must take part in its defense. Camelot is no longer in a position to defend the other cities from invasions and raids. There’s hardly a navy left to do so and there are too few regular soldiers remaining.”

Arthur rubbed his forehead. “You’re right Merlin,” he said. “But let’s think of these things later. Right now, we need to get a proper sleep. I’ll send for the other rebel leaders in the morning so we can have a full discussion on the matter.”

Merlin nodded in agreement before eyeing his still unconsumed cup of ale. “Good night Arthur,” he said as he raised it to his departing friend. “And happy liberty day,” Merlin raised his cup and downed it before rising himself to go to bed.

Arthur smiled, “The 28th of August... I think when this is all sorted I’ll make that a holiday in Camelot. ‘Liberty Day’.” With that Arthur left the room and Merlin followed.


	14. Home Again

# Home Again

The argument had been going on for days. When Merlin and Arthur had first sent for the other leaders of the now finished rebellion, they had simply assumed that the necessity of national unity was obvious to everyone. The past week of bickering between thirty-nine men and women who’d fought in the rebellion seated in the throne room of the Lord of Camelot had proven otherwise.

Arthur, being trusted and well liked by everyone present, had been volunteered to lead the discussion and maintain civility. At first, he’d been able to do so quite well, but the issue was rather a contentious one and there began to be more and more frequent outbursts of incivility. Whenever one of these occurred and Arthur found himself unable to get the involved parties to settle down, he simply called an end to the discussion so that everyone could cool off. This, in addition to the fact that many of the present delegates tended to talk a lot without saying very much, had left the discussion of the establishment of an Argentian nation rather than a collection of city states in more or less the same place as it had been when they had first started.

Now, another one of these outbursts seemed to be brewing, this time between Lord Seraph and one of the delegates from Caerleon. Merlin had actually paid very little attention to the goings on since the start of the arguments and had said very little, assuming that the disagreements would eventually settle and they could actually get to the _how_ of the nation rather than simply discussing if it would happen at all. This, however, did not seem to be the case. If anything, the situation was escalating and they were no closer to settling the issue.

Finally, before the outburst could occur, Merlin stood up and spoke loudly and clearly. “Look,” he said. “For those of you who are opposed to a single Argentian nation, I understand your concerns. After all, we _did_ just fight a war to win the sovereignty of our cities and the liberties of our people back from an empress. None of us wants to then just _hand_ that all away again to a king. And that is _exactly_ why we need to band together.”

“I’m sorry but--” Seraph began to retort but Merlin interrupted him.

“I’m not finished yet.” Once the Lord shut up, Merlin continued. “The population of the whole island has been devastated by both Morgana’s plague and the war. Much of the once great cities of the island lays vacant or in ruins, often both. The great navy of Camelot that once protected _all_ your cities from the vikingr is all but gone thanks in part to Morgana and also to Uther Pendragon. The other cities like Thorncoast and Ferroton that once had similar forces have also been disarmed by Morgana’s destruction. But raiders from the north are the least of our worries.

“You’re all concerned about losing your sovereignty again to another ruler but in establishing the unity of Argentia against outside invaders, we can avoid that. Should we really be afraid that the people we fought alongside, our brothers in arms, will tread upon our liberties? Or should we be more concerned about opportunistic rulers from the outside, like the king of England or the king of France? Rulers who know full well that the island has been weakened and who do not rely on mercenaries to fight for them but rather on their bannermen who are far more reliable.

“You can bicker all you want, or cast insults at each other rather than have intelligent discussion about what we should do. But remember that the longer you do that, the more time we give foreigners to make plans to invade us a second time and when they do, they will almost certainly crush us, _unless_ we are prepared. _Unless_ , we are united against them.”

“Foreigners like Morgana you mean?” Lord Seraph jabbed. “You know, she wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t let her go. Why _did_ you let her go Merlin? Is it perhaps because you really are a traitor and you’re plotting something with her?”

Merlin was at a loss for words at first but eventually he found his voice, “She won’t be a problem anymore.”

“And _how_ do you know that?”

“Because I magically bound her to her word.”

“Would have been simpler if you’d just killed her.”

Merlin didn’t respond. The truth was, he hadn’t really thought about why he’d let Morgana live. Perhaps it had been out of pity. The way she’d seemed so destroyed after she’d been beaten. She’d built her life around taking revenge on Uther and when that had been done she wanted revenge on his whole house and as she descended deeper into the black pit of violence, she’d lost her true self to a creature that thirsted only for power and blood. Such a fate, Merlin thought, was punishment in and of itself.

Lord Aquila rose to respond to Merlin’s earlier argument about the necessity of unity, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen across the room. “You speak well and I would be a fool to deny the truth of what you speak. But is it really wise to accept a ruler of this island from among its disparate peoples on the offhand chance that we get invaded by another ruler? You may think otherwise Merlin, but this island is not _one_ nation but _thirteen_ distinct ones. There are four different languages spoken on the island, one of them can only be heard in one city while the others are spoken predominantly in one city or another. Even those cities that speak the same language have different customs and manners that set them apart. You may get the people of Civs Aquila or Camelot to accept me as their ruler, but Borthladd Britannia and Embercross would not. Nor would we be likely to accept Lord Cadwalader or General Evawn as our king in this part of the island.”

Merlin stood quietly for a moment, thinking on what the other leader had just said before finally replying. “In answer to your question, no. It isn’t wise to accept a _single_ ruler, nor do I have any delusions about thinking that we _could_ get everyone who was involved in the rebellion to accept a single ruler, even one as honorable as Arthur. We all thirst too much for independence and the rule of one can easily become tyrannical. We need only look to Camelot’s recent history for proof of this. But just because we shouldn’t have a _single_ _ruler_ doesn’t mean we can’t have any leaders of the alliance nor does it mean that we must choose only _one_ among us.

“As to your concern about Argentia being a single nation it is true, there are differences between us, but those differences are fewer and less meaningful now that we have endured this rebellion. The fight forced us to work more closely with the people of other cities than we had ever done before. The men who are now living in their home cities are no longer just people of Argurbus, or Wolfmoon. They’re people of Argentia. Through contact with the other peoples of the island we have all acquired some of the customs and manners and even much of the languages of our neighbors. And those differences that remain are of less importance because of the necessity of working together to rebuild after the bloodshed. But most of all, we are a nation united, perhaps not by customs or language, at least not at the moment, but we are united by a principle, an idea and that principle is the very principle that we all fought against Morgana for. We fought for our liberty.”

“Forgive me Merlin,” Lord Caerleon began. “But it sounds like you want to establish a unified nation but one that is not unified by a monarch but rather by what, an idea? And one that is ruled not by one man but by many? Has such a country ever existed? _Can_ such a country exist?”

“Admittedly no there haven't been any like what you’ve described,” Merlin replied. “At least not one _exactly_ like that. But there have been similar countries. Rome for example.”

Lord Seraph scoffed at this. “You Westerners and your love of Rome,” he said shaking his head derisively. “Don’t you remember what happened to Rome? Their rule by many fell away to rule by one which itself fell to rule by foreign invaders. Hardly a society to model ours on.”

“Yes, Rome fell,” Merlin conceded. “But it fell because its people abandoned liberty and personal responsibility for security and wealth in the immediate term. It fell because its rulers became addicted to slavery and political backstabbing. These things can be avoided. Here, we have no slaves and we can take steps to preserve liberty by making the state just powerful enough to defend the nation but not so powerful that it tramples our rights.”

A contemplative silence fell over the chamber as Merlin finished. It lasted several minutes before Arthur broke it in an effort to push things along again. “So, do we have an agreement? Shall we proceed with the planning?”

A murmur of assent rippled through the gathered delegates before Lord Cadwalader rose and addressed everyone. “I think there is a general agreement that we should proceed, but I should give fair warning, that _every_ aspect of this new union _must_ be up for negotiation and I reserve the right to depart from this alliance should I find that _any_ part of it is unacceptable both for myself and for the people of Borthladd Britannia.”

“I shall reserve the same right,” Evawn interjected.

“And I,” replied Lord Aquila.

Soon it was understood that all those present had reserved the same right with regards to their respective cities and the discussion of the more technical details began. From the outset, it was clear that this would be more of a military alliance than a political one. Had Merlin not actively participated in the following discussions, it would have been little more than a continuation of the rebel alliance. But Merlin knew that in order to truly secure Argentia’s future, there would have to be more than just military cooperation among the cities of the island. For one thing, while there had been a loose mutual defense pact existing between all the cities in the past, it had always been Camelot that handled the greatest portion of the island’s defense with its powerful navy. That had to change. If Argentia was going to defend itself in the post war period, all the cities would have to contribute equally to defense. Merlin was able to get this provision added to the agreement, on the condition that the leaders of the other cities have a say in military policy rather than having the entire military force of the island controlled exclusively by the king whom everyone had agreed early on would be Arthur.

However, even the discussion on who would be king was contentious. Though everyone believed Arthur would be the best choice, the concern was on how to determine who would head the alliance after Arthur was no longer king. This was an issue that had been raised first by the delegates of Camelot but also advanced by the delegates of Embercross. The people of both cities had experienced severe oppression at the hands of their lords. The concern was that if the position were to be hereditary, there would come a time when the kings were no longer fit to rule and the only way to remove them in favor of a better ruler would be through military force.

Though the issue was important to Camelot and especially Embercross, which had essentially been a kind of slave state even before the war, Lord Aquila and a few others had also taken interest, though for different reasons. Lord Aquila’s concern was the issue of succession. “A valid concern,” he’d said when the first arguments for a non-hereditary leadership had been made. “But I think there are other reasons to be concerned with the matter of succession. Suppose, for example, the king were to die before his heir was of age, or perhaps even before he had an heir. Who would then fill the vacancy? Elsewhere that task would fall to a regent until a suitable heir was able to take charge. But this presents problems since the regent could easily just put themselves in charge in perpetuity.” The solution had been a kind of elective monarchy similar to that of the Holy Roman Empire. It was agreed that when the time to decide the king’s successor came, the sovereign leaders of each city would decide on a new one from among their number.

Another thing that Merlin had insisted upon was open markets and free movement of people between the cities. At first he had been ridiculed for the suggestion but he was backed by Lord Cadwalader who helped him make the case that the best way to return the island to prosperity, which was badly needed to fund the defense of the realm, was to allow people to trade freely not just between cities but within them. This too was eventually agreed upon.

As the discussions continued into the next day, it was General Evawn’s turn to insist upon something. “Commoners ought to be allowed a seat at the alliance councils,” he’d said.

“Why on earth would we do that?” Seraph had asked incredulously. “Commoners oughtn’t have the right to rule. They are subjects of the crown, not the crown itself.”

This time Lord Aquila sided with Seraph though not for the same reasons. “My concern isn’t so much whether commoners have the right but rather whether they have the capacity to make such decisions as would need to be made on the alliance council.”

“I’m a commoner am I not?” Evawn returned. “Do you think me incapable of making policy?”

“Well no but--”

“It’s commoners who’ll be fighting to defend the island and it’s commoners who are subject to the land’s laws. We ought to have a say in how these things play out,” Evawn interrupted. The issue once again divided the assembled delegates with Borthladd Britannia and part of Camelot siding with Embercross. The rest of the alliance, however, was far more obstinate in this matter than they’d been on other things prompting Evawn and Cadwalader to threaten to withdraw from the negotiations. At this moment, Arthur, who had mostly just focused on keeping order and setting the agenda up to this point suggested a compromise. The result was that the alliance agreed that commoners would have a say in the governance of the island, but that power would be divided between the low born and the high born. Instead of one council, there would be two, one on which the sovereigns of the member cities sat and had primary control over military matters and secondary control over domestic ones and another on which representatives of the commoners would sit and have powers that were the reverse of the sovereigns.

After this matter was settled, the issue of funding for the military was raised. It had already been determined that funding for the alliance as a whole would be managed by the commoners’ council but how the funding would be collected was still an unanswered question. Merlin suggested that it simply be a matter of having the alliance members pay into the organization in a manner similar to paying tribute. However, this was objected to out of concern that the individual cities may not pay their dues and that the only way to recover them would be for the national military to engage in war on the people it was supposed to protect. It was thus decided that taxes should be collected directly rather than through the cities as tribute from the various sovereigns.

Matters of currency were also an issue. At the outset, each city had wanted its own currency to become the national currency or else to simply have thirteen separate currencies. After all, it was an alliance, not a country in its own right. Of course, Merlin fully intended that even though Argentia was still closer to thirteen different nations than it was to one, that it should eventually become one nation. He thus suggested that the solution to the problem would be to make all thirteen currencies acceptable in all thirteen cities, essentially transforming the thirteen currencies into one national currency.

Many other things were discussed in the following days, including how justice would be administered and a national language, but eventually, the final articles of the alliance were agreed upon and the Argentian Alliance was born. After everything had been agreed upon Merlin said, “We should write the agreement down.”

“Why?” asked Lord Caerleon.

“So we have a record. And so we can distribute that record across the country so that people know what it means to be in the Alliance,” Merlin replied. “So that that can then be passed down generation to generation.”

To this everyone agreed including Arthur who replied, “An excellent idea Merlin. Perhaps you would like to write it down?”

“I already have,” he replied, drawing out a stack of parchments with notes of the proceedings scrawled all over them. “They just have to be cleaned up a little is all.” By the following day, Merlin had thirteen copies of the agreement written out, one for each of the sovereigns. After all the documents had been signed, Merlin used a duplicating charm to copy them for distribution among the citizens of the various cities.

Though Merlin had hoped there would be some period of rest now that the convention had ended, he knew not to expect it. Almost as soon as they’d finished, discussions began on how best to rebuild the defense forces of the island. In addition to that, there were the issues surrounding the rebuilding of Camelot. Needless to say, they all had their work cut out for them and Merlin did his best to help Arthur with the load. Finally, nearly a year after the agreement had first been signed, things had been moved along the road to recovery enough that Merlin could take a rest.

For the next two weeks he started rebuilding Ekelhart’s farm. The morning after their victory the previous year, he’d gone outside the city walls to find it exactly as he’d left it. A smouldering pile of ash and rubble. Morgana, it seemed, had never taken the time to rebuild it, or even to clean it up. After asking around the town, Merlin discovered that she hadn’t let anyone else do it either.

As sad as it was that the once great farm had remained ruined and abandoned for so long, it was also somewhat relieving, it saved Merlin the trouble of figuring out how land rights would work in the new regime, especially since at that time, that new regime had yet to figure itself out. It also wasn’t unexpected that the farm would have been left by Morgana. She had plenty more like it and she wasn’t driven by a desire to create or preserve. She was driven by vengeance against the Pendragons, a vengeance which had poisoned her until it grew into an insatiable powerlust. Such a person could not be a builder, only a taker, and a destroyer.

Merlin had also taken an interest in the pumphouse and had gone to see it, only to find it in ruins. The machinery was either rusted or rotted and mold grew on the stone walls. Merlin hadn’t any experience with such things as the construction and maintenance of buildings and machinery, so there was nothing he would have been able to do there. He would have to find someone, an engineer, who could fix it.

Arthur had been doing his part as well and was turning out to be a far better Lord of Camelot than his father, despite having fewer resources and men at his disposal. Of course he also had Guinevere to help him. She’d rushed to Camelot as soon as she’d heard of their victory. When she’d arrived, Arthur had proposed to her and she’d accepted. Now they were married. The wedding had taken place on Liberty Day, which had been made a national holiday the day after the agreement had been signed.

So the days proceeded uneventfully as the island got back on its feet and prospered once again. The navy was quickly rebuilt and although most of the ships were built and harbored in Camelot’s port, they no longer flew the banners of Whitecastle and Pendragon but instead the banner of the Alliance, a silver crown on crimson surrounded by thirteen silver stars. The vikingr who once threatened the island were once again kept at bay and the whispers of foreign powers’ designs on the silver isle that had concerned Merlin from the start had quieted down. Arthur had also established a group of elite fighters who would be charged with safeguarding the peace in the realm and, if need be, beyond. These were his Knights of the Round Table. Among the first to be knighted were Sirs Cadogan and Bedivere who were rewarded for their services during the rebellion.

The Alliance was also, in practice, becoming less of a simple alliance and more of a single, integrated nation thanks to the unified currency and the free movement of people and goods between the various cities of the island. The languages were blending together even more than they had during the rebellion and customs that could only have been found in Borthladd Britannia previously, could now be seen as far west as Camelot and Ferroton.

Everything was going the way it should have. However, as the winter began to draw in ever closer, Merlin found himself developing an inexplicable sense of dread. No one else seemed to be affected, only him. The dread began to manifest itself as vague dreams, only half remembered by morning’s light. Then the dream returned. The first dream, the dream that had haunted him since his first days at Hogwarts. Merlin awoke in fear and confusion. It couldn’t be possible, Morgana had been defeated. He understood that Arthur was the red dragon and Morgana the white and that the white had forced the red out of Camelot. But the red dragon had returned. The rebellion was won.

Despite what he tried to tell himself, however, Merlin knew that they had not yet seen the last of Morgana. Somehow, somewhere, she was plotting a sinister return to power, and revenge on both Arthur and Merlin. Merlin didn’t know what she was planning, or where she was, but he knew that he had to stop her, and stop her he would. The red dragon would never again be forced from Camelot. Never. Merlin resolved to stop Morgana, and this time, he would do it for good, even if it meant killing her in cold blood.


	15. The Prophet's Quest

# The Prophet’s Quest

“Merlin, you can’t be leaving!” Arthur protested.

“I have to,” Merlin replied. “I made a mistake by letting Morgana live and she’s amassing her forces again.”

“And you know this because you had a vision? A prophecy? Merlin-”

“Arthur, you remember what happened last time I left because of a prophecy?” Arthur nodded. “And how did that turn out? What if I hadn’t trusted it? We’d all be lying dead in some ditch somewhere and Morgana would rule the island and probably more.”

Arthur didn’t reply for a while. Then he said, “Merlin, I need you here. You made a promise to me. Remember? All those years ago.”

“I know,” Merlin replied calmly as he finished saddling up his horse, “but that promise was more than just a promise to advise you.” Arthur remained silent, fully aware that what Merlin said was true, even if the words hadn’t been explicitly spoken that day. “And I’m keeping that promise by doing this.”

Arthur shook his head wearily as Merlin mounted his horse. “Merlin, I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

Merlin smiled at his friend reassuringly. “You’ll be fine. You’re already a fine leader and you’ve got Guinevere. She’ll keep you in line.” With that Merlin spurred the horse out of the castle gates and into the city.

“Very funny Merlin!” Arthur called after him.

The first couple weeks of Merlin’s quest for answers were spent searching for Avalon. Merlin knew that if anyone could help him with his prophetic dreams it would be the Lady of the Lake. After all, she had been the one to help him open his mind to them in the first place so that he could better understand the vague flashes and half remembered dreams. Before long, however, it became clear that Avalon wasn’t going to allow itself to be found again so easily.

Thus, Merlin chose another approach. He chose to travel in search of other seers. Prophets like himself whom he hoped would be able to offer him some further insight into his abilities so that he could use them to greater advantage. But in this too, he was disappointed. He had known that true seers were few and far between among the human race but he had hoped that he would still be able to find at least one in Argentia. Alas, he found no one on his home island. So he expanded his search to the whole of the British Isles and though he found true seers, they were no more informed of their abilities than he was of his and many of them even less so. So he crossed the English Channel and traveled further and further east until he found himself in an inn and tavern in Saxony.

It wasn’t exactly his first choice of country to visit, considering that not too long ago he and a number of its people had been on opposite sides of a war that had only been won by trickery and deception. Nonetheless, it was the country that Merlin found himself in due to the apparent lack of other Europeans who could help him figure out and harness his prophetic abilities. Besides, most of the Saxon mercenaries who had fought for Morgana had never seen him and the odds that he would run into one that had were small enough for a desperate gamble that he’d find someone who could help him and still avoid his enemies in the last place on earth he wanted to be. As he ordered up a drink from the barkeep, however, it became clear that, at least on the last account, he would have no such luck.

“Fancy meeting _you_ here,” a familiar voice said from behind him. Merlin set down his mug and turned around to find Frederick van Alrick standing above him.

“Hello van Alrick,” Merlin replied coolly, surreptitiously reaching for his wand in anticipation of an attack from the Saxon mercenary commander.

Apparently, this did not go unnoticed because the Saxon began reaching for his wand as well as he spoke, “Now, now, there’s no need for violence, I was just surprised to find you here. After all, you are a _long_ way from home.” van Alrick drew out a chair next to Merlin and sat down. “Now what brings you all the way out to our little corner of Europe?”

Merlin eyed the Saxon suspiciously before taking a sip of his drink and replying, “I don’t see that that’s any of your business.”

van Alrick’s expression hardened. “Oh really?” he asked. “I think that it definitely _is_ my business what foreigners are doing in my home _especially_ if that foreigner was once an enemy combatant, one who has a flair for tricks and lies. My men and I invaded your home and you’re none too happy about it, I get that. But how do I know you’re not scouting about here to return the favor and invade _our_ home? I hear your King Arthur and his Lords of the Realm have been building up quite a military force.”

“Believe me van Alrick, if we wanted to invade Saxony _I_ wouldn’t be the one scouting out the kingdom, or at the very least I’d have come disguised, I’m rather good at those you know.”

“Is that so? Why, may I ask, wouldn’t your king send his best sorcerer to scout us out?”

“For precisely _this_ reason,” Merlin replied shortly, referring to the progression of the conversation thus far. “My reasons for being here are entirely personal.” Merlin took another sip of his drink.

“How do I know that this isn’t just another one of your tricks? After all, you did a pretty good job of pulling the wool over my eyes when you got us to surrender and leave the island.”

“Please,” Merlin scoffed. “You were hardly tricked into leaving. You wanted an end to the fighting as much as we did so it wasn’t very difficult for you to let yourself believe that it was possible that we could have held out for much longer than we really could have. You knew that even if I _had_ given Arthur up and the rebellion foundered, it would have never disappeared completely. You’d have been Morgana’s permanent occupying force trying to hold land for a foreign empress in a country you didn’t belong in and that would have been very bloody and expensive indeed.”

The Saxon pondered this for a moment before nodding. “You’re right. We would have abandoned Morgana anyway. And something tells me that you understand the difficulties of conquering and occupying foreign lands, especially when their peoples are so different to your own.”

“What gave it away?”

“Your last sentence, that bit about a permanent occupying force trying to hold _foreign_ lands. Which leads me to my next question which is more out of curiosity than anything else. How did you manage to join all those lords of yours together under one king? I understand their unity during the rebellion but what kept them from fragmenting again after you’d won?”

“I convinced them of the necessity of our continued alliance to protect against other potential invaders.”

“An alliance ruled by a king?”

Merlin glanced sideways at the Saxon. “It’s complicated,” he replied. For several moments after that, they sat in awkward silence, Merlin sipping his drink and Frederick looking at the side of his head, his eyes like drills boring into his skull. Finally, Merlin turned back to him and asked, “Why are you still here?”

Frederick simply raised his eyebrows and replied, “Because you still haven’t told me why _you’re_ here.”

“I told you,” Merlin replied. “It’s personal.”

“And I’m going to continue to sit here staring at you until you tell me what kind of personal. Who knows, maybe I can help.”

“I doubt that very much,” Merlin replied. “Besides, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Some war to fight with your company of mercenaries?”

“Nope,” Frederick replied. “I’ve retired. I decided that after the whole Argentia incident I should probably quit fighting for pay and settle down, maybe start a family.” This prompted a look of incredulity from Merlin. “What?” van Alrick asked.

“You’ve got to be what? Fifty?” Merlin replied.

“Forty-five! And men _have_ started later,” Frederick protested.

Merlin rolled his eyes and took another sip off his drink. “You’re drunk,” he returned.

“And you will be too if you keep drinking like that,” the Saxon replied gesturing to Merlin’s now half empty mug. “Maybe drunk enough to finally tell me what you’re here for.”

Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes. He was satisfied that Frederick wasn’t a threat anymore, at least not an immediate one, but he _did_ seem intent on continuing to be a thorn in his side. In an attempt to finally get rid of the Saxon, Merlin said, “I’m looking for answers.”

“To what?”

Merlin eyed the Saxon before asking, “Do you believe in prophecies? Seers?”

“There was a time when I didn’t, but now… Well let’s just say that my perspective’s been changed.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I was a seer?”

“No. Not unless you gave me a prophecy.”

“It doesn’t work on demand, which is why I’m searching for answers. I’ve been all over the British Isles and have been moving eastward in search of someone who could help me figure out how to make it work on demand, rather than just having occasional random flashes about the future.”

“I know it doesn’t work on demand, it doesn’t for any seer, at least not for human seers. But if you’re a seer, then surely you’ve had some prophecies before, some that you can tell me.”

“And how would you know these prophecies are genuine?” Merlin asked.

“Try me.”

Merlin paused and thought back on the things he’d foreseen before. “The battle of Embercross,” he said. “I foresaw that you had somehow figured out what our plans were and that your army was going to ambush and slaughter us that day. I also had a vision of a magic sword and where to find it. So I found it and arrived on the field of battle just in time to save the day.” Merlin looked Frederick in the eye and could see he was unconvinced. Merlin was about to just blow him off and go back to his drink before turning in for the night when another prophecy occurred to him, the very one that had sent him on his quest for knowledge in the first place. He wasn’t entirely sure what made him speak it and to put it so poetically, later his rational mind would chalk it up to just being drunk while his subconscious would ascribe it to the influence of his grandmother, but as it would happen, it was fortuitous that he had decided to tell the Saxon of the prophecy, the first prophecy.

_The witch stands_

_In the ruins of a kingdom great_

_She looses the dragons_

_One red, one white_

_As the beasts fight_

_So did the men_

_And fall they did_

_In rivers of blood_

_Till fell their king_

_And the dragon red_

_From the silver isle_

_Fled_

Halfway through, van Alrick had joined in, matching Merlin’s prophecy word for word, though it was impossible that he had heard it before. “How do you know this?” Merlin finally asked.

“A seer told me. Or rather, three. I don’t know what it means, but something tells me you do, at least part of it.”

Merlin nodded. “The witch is Morgana, she’s the one I see when I have the dream. We’re standing in the ruins of a castle and she splits the ground open and releases two dragons. The red one is almost certainly Arthur while she is the white. The dragons fight just as their armies did in a great battle until eventually the red dragon is forced from Argentia. I used to think that the dream was about our war with you. But I had it again, after the war. It’s clear to me now that there’s yet another war to be had with Morgana and it will be even bloodier than the last and Arthur will die if I do nothing.”

Frederick looked solemnly at Merlin before speaking again, “There’s more to the prophecy.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow at this, “There can’t be. The dream ends with the defeat of the red dragon.”

“Then the dream isn’t showing you the whole prophecy,” van Alrick replied.

“Then how does it end?” Merlin challenged.

“ _And he shall lie, beneath healing water, the once and future king_ ,” he finished.

“Once and future king? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe, it means that the king, Arthur, if you’re right, will return after his defeat. That he won’t actually die.”

“Anyway, it doesn’t particularly matter right now,” Merlin replied as he returned to his now almost empty mug. “I need to find a seer who knows more about this prophecy thing than I do. I need to know how to use it so I can see _what_ I need to see _when_ I need to see it, rather than this uncontrolled confusion.”

“As it happens,” Frederick began, “I actually ought to be able to help with that.”

“How, by taking me to those three seers of yours?” Merlin asked skeptically. “Besides, why would you want to help me?”

“Because Master Ambrosius,” van Alrick replied, “I respect you. You may have been my enemy once but I see a lot of myself in you.” Merlin scoffed at this. “Scoff all you like boy but it’s true,” van Alrick returned. “You’re determined and a good fighter, even though you prefer your tricks to a direct confrontation. And even better, you’re clever. I didn’t get to be the head of what was once the best and largest mercenary force in Europe by being stupid, a shoddy fighter, or weak willed and you didn’t win your rebellion by being those things either.” He held Merlin’s gaze for a moment before finishing, “So yes, I’ll take you to those three seers, or at least where I last saw them. Though they’re not exactly seers.”

“If they’re not exactly seers, then what are they?” Merlin asked.

“It’s complicated,” Frederick replied, facetiously referring to Merlin’s answer to his question about the Argentian Alliance. “Meet me in the stables before sunup tomorrow morning.” With that the Saxon stood up and left the tavern, presumably to go home and to bed. A few moments later, Merlin did the same.

Merlin met Frederick the next morning in the tavern stables, navigating the horse dung populated floor by the light of his wand which he also had out in the event that the Saxon had become more belligerent after sleeping off his drunkenness from the night before. Fortunately, the Saxon remained friendly and they rode out of the city and toward a small forest just over the horizon. For the first few miles they rode in silence but eventually the Saxon asked, “So you still haven’t explained to me how it is that a king rules a military alliance.”

Merlin, who had been quite content with the silence, gave Frederick a sidelong glance before replying, “And you still haven’t explained how these three seers of yours aren’t exactly seers.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” returned the Saxon.

“Fine,” Merlin replied. “He’s not actually a king, at least not in the common usage of the term. He’s in charge of the military aspects of the alliance and the title’s not hereditary but elective. The Lords of the Realm elect their military leader who works to protect the realm while domestic affairs are handled by the commoners.”

“Commoners get a say?” Frederick asked incredulously.

“Marginally, while the different issues are handled independently by the nobility and the commoners, they both serve as checks on each other in certain areas. It was the only way to get Embercross and Borthladd Britannia to stay in the alliance and I can’t say I blame them. The lords of Embercross were quite the tyrants and the commoners of Borthladd Britannia have had representation through their merchants’ council for generations.”

“Sounds like a fool’s idea of a kingdom if you ask me,” van Alrick replied. “A king who’s elected? How do you keep him from just passing the title on down to his descendants like the emperors do here? After all, the Holy Roman Emperor is supposed to be elected by the various kingdoms but that doesn’t keep whoever’s got the most power from just passing rule down to their sons. It’s made for a very violent and unstable empire. And as for your attempt at republicanism, remember what happened to the last republic Europe saw.”

“Yes, it turned into an empire that lasted for a few hundred years and then collapsed but that happened because they abandoned their republican values. They stopped concerning themselves with liberty and became more concerned with power and their bread and circuses. Not to mention the slaves.”

“First off, how do you know your ‘alliance’ won’t abandon _its_ republican values? And second, slaves were the backbone of Rome, without them they wouldn’t have survived one century let alone ten.”

Merlin scoffed, “You know nothing of Rome. First, Romans abandoned their republican values because they hadn’t written them down, they forgot them over time. We got around that problem by writing the alliance’s founding principles and distributing copies throughout the island. They’ll be copied and passed around until the end of time, as eternal a document as the Bible.” The Saxon guffawed loudly in response to this. “You laugh all you want Saxon,” Merlin returned. “But in a thousand years we’ll see whose country is still standing, yours or mine. As for slavery, it wasn’t an asset to the Romans but a millstone that held their economy and society back by displacing _Roman_ workers and forcing them to beg alms from the state for their survival while the Senate gladly continued to make them and keep them dependent so they could retain their power, a move that inevitably led to the rise of the military dictator and then the emperor.”

“Whatever you say,” Frederick replied, still laughing at what he believed to be Merlin’s naivete.

“Now your turn,” Merlin said. “What exactly are these seers who aren’t exactly seers?”

“You can ask them more yourself when you see them but in short, they’re not human and so can do a lot more with prophecy than any human ever could.”

They spent the rest of their journey conversing about odds and ends of their lives. They spoke of their childhoods and their families, though Merlin took care to conceal his “divine” heritage. As it turned out, van Alrick had had quite the life having ventured across the known world with his master before completing his time as a wizarding apprentice and then moving on to build a reputation as a great fighter and eventually a great military commander in the Saxon army before staking out on his own and starting his band of mercenaries. Merlin found the part about his time in the far east where the alchemists, in their search for eternal life, had instead produced a powder that burned so hot and fast you could propel a volley of arrows with them faster and farther than a Greek gastraphetes. The Saxon also found Merlin’s background quite interesting and was particularly interested in his time at Hogwarts.

Eventually, the conversation turned toward politics and the growing gulf between the magical and non-magical worlds. While Frederick was convinced that total separation and possibly even conflict was inevitable, Merlin had a more optimistic view pointing out, “It was sorcerers who helped the gens non magica win the rebellion. One of those sorcerers has been knighted by Arthur despite him being a foreigner and the other has gone off to join the clergy, both are my close friends.”

“And this friend of yours who joined the clergy,” van Alrick began, “will he be able to use his magic out in the open or will he have to hide it?”

“He’ll probably have to remain secretive about it, at least in the beginning but I have no doubt that when the Church discovers that he has great skills when it comes to healing magic they’ll still accept him. After all, it was sorcerers in the Church who were responsible for expelling the Shadow from Rome.”

“Of course they were responsible for it,” van Alrick replied. “But did they get credit? No, their ‘unholy’ practice was overlooked and it was chalked up to a miracle sent by God. How can there be coexistence when the muggles won’t even acknowledge when we help them?”

Merlin was about to reply but was stopped by the sight of Frederick’s hand shooting up in a gesture indicating that he should be silent. “What is it?” Merlin whispered.

“We’re here,” Frederick replied.

Merlin looked around but didn’t see anything but the small forest they had been riding through for the past several hours. “I don’t see any-” Merlin was interrupted by the glimpse of a strange, fair, and graceful being walking through the forest. The creature looked human but Merlin could instantly tell that it was not, despite having only seen it for a brief moment before it disappeared back into the forest, walking away from the two wizards.

“This is where I leave you,” the Saxon said finally. “Just walk in the direction the aelf went and you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

“Why won’t you come with me?” Merlin asked.

“Because those seers I told you of told me that I would see aelfkind only twice more in my life and that the second time would be on the day I died. I’ve just used one of those times up and I don’t intend on dying today. Farewell Merlin, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.” With that the Saxon turned his horse around and began to ride swiftly in the opposite direction.

Merlin wanted to call after him and ask if the seers he’d spoken of were aelfs, whatever they were, but he knew that his path lay before him, not behind. So, without further ado, he rode slowly in the direction he’d seen the strange creature vanish. His path took him off the small road he’d been travelling earlier and as he went deeper and deeper into the forest he became more and more nervous. Although the forest behaved as any normal forest should and not like the strange wood that shielded Avalon from the outside world, Merlin could also feel a growing magical power as he continued on his way. The power itself wasn’t sinister in the slightest, merely there, but Merlin knew that whatever was projecting it would likely be able to end him in an instant if it so desired.

Finally, Merlin emerged into a sunlit clearing. In the center of the clearing stood what at first appeared to be a tree but upon further inspection, it became clear that it was actually a very large branch, jutting out of the earth. And yet, it was also a tree, an oak tree. Merlin sat still upon his horse for several moments trying to figure out if the strange wooden object was tree or branch but every time he looked at it, it seemed to be both at the same time.

The very thought that something could be two different things at the same time was so self contradictory that Merlin was convinced that it could not be possible. Yet there the thing stood, both tree and tree branch at once. Eventually, simply trying to comprehend the strange thing became such a headache for Merlin that he abandoned all hope of it and turned his attention instead to the creatures around him which he discovered had taken as much of an interest in him as he had in the bizarre tree that wasn’t a tree.

Merlin guessed that these must be the aelfs. They looked mostly human but were unusually tall and pale but not in such a way that made them look sickly or otherwise unappealing to look at. Merlin also noticed that they all had eyes that were a very odd shade of green. It wasn’t that they weren’t beautiful, just that it was a different kind of beauty.

Unfortunately, their interest in him as a mere curiosity was waning and Merlin could tell that they were beginning to perceive him as a threat. Even worse, they were armed. Sensing the coming conflict, Merlin instinctively reached for his wand. However, the crisis was averted by the unexpected outcry of one of the creatures. Merlin’s attention was drawn to what appeared to be a woman and though he couldn’t understand what she’d said, whatever it had been had convinced the other creatures to leave him for they turned away from him and went about their business, though what their business was was just as mysterious to Merlin as their language.

Merlin turned his attention to the creature that had averted the impending conflict. He thought that she might be some sort of leader but he could see nothing that distinguished her from her fellows. As she approached him, Merlin drew his wand. He had to be careful, she may have saved him from her friends but it was entirely possible that she had done so because she preferred to kill him herself. Merlin held his wand at the ready, carefully adjusting his posture to project preparedness but to not appear threatening.

“You can come down from your horse and put away your wand,” she said. “I’m not going to harm you, nor shall my countrymen.”

“You speak the tongues of men.” Merlin dropped his wand slightly in surprise before raising it back up higher this time. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“I’ve been expecting you.”

“Are you one of the seers?” Merlin asked, hope rising.

The creature seemed confused by the question. “I can see, yes,” she replied.

“I mean the future,” Merlin clarified.

“Ah,” she replied, realization dawning on her. “I may know your language but some expressions are…”

“Confusing?”

“Alien,” she finished. “No, I cannot see the future. But your arrival was foretold.”

“Was it?” Merlin asked skeptically raising his wand again as the creature drew nearer.

“Yes,” she replied, taking Merlin’s once again raised wand as her cue to halt her course toward the wizard. “Of course it was a minor detail in the grand scheme of the great prophecies but it was foretold nonetheless.”

“And what was foretold?” Merlin asked.

“That you would come seeking knowledge of prophecy and that you would leave with such knowledge, just not the knowledge you wanted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come down from your horse and I can tell you,” she replied.

Merlin hesitated. He very much preferred to remain mounted. It was a position of advantage, it placed him physically above the creatures that surrounded him and it gave him an easy means by which to escape quickly. And he was not convinced that these creatures were entirely friendly despite the female’s assurances.

Seeing his hesitation, the creature said, “I realize you do not fully trust us but it is much more difficult to speak when I have to look up at you on your horse. So if you want knowledge of prophecy then you shall have to dismount.”

Merlin weighed his options and decided that he had come too far to give up and turn around now, so he did as the creature commanded. Once both his feet were firmly planted on the ground he asked, “So what is this knowledge of prophecy that you have for me, and how is it that you know it if you are not yourself a prophet?”

Her only reply was, “Walk with me.” As Merlin did as she asked and they began to walk around the clearing, she continued. “Is it so surprising that one can know things about prophets and prophecy without being a prophet?” She looked askance at Merlin before continuing, “Then again, I suppose what you expect me to tell you could only come from the mouth of a prophet, or else someone who has been informed of such things by a prophet. But as I’ve told you, you will learn of prophecy, just not what you intended to learn of it.”

Merlin restrained himself from making any rude remarks though it was difficult. The creature was being extremely cryptic. Instead, Merlin said, “If you could speak plainly it would be much appreciated.”

“Ah yes,” she replied. “My apologies, I forgot that you creatures don’t share our patience, probably due to your shorter lives.

“Very well, I shall be brief. I know that you have come to learn how to prophesy at will, but I cannot give you this information. I can, however, tell you where to find it.”

Merlin nearly sighed with exasperation. Once again he was being redirected to someone who could help him who he guessed likely couldn’t actually help him and would send him off to find someone else who could help him and so on, ad infinitum. He was distracted from these thoughts, however, when he caught a glimpse of one of the creatures beginning to climb the strange tree centered in the clearing. Not only did the creature climb the impossible tree, but it actually vanished into it, as if someone had cast a vanishing charm on him.

The creature with whom he had been speaking noticed Merlin’s interest in the strange tree and said, “That is Yggdrasil, or at least part of it.”

“Yggdrasil?” Merlin asked.

“Yes. In the myths of the Northmen it connects the nine realms. Of course, the reality is that it connects many more than nine realms but you can travel from one realm to another by climbing its branches. These branches can be manipulated and connected to different parts of the realms by means of a suitable oak tree. That is why the branch appears to be both a very large branch that is part of Yggdrasil and also a great and powerful oak.”

“These other realms, where are they?” Merlin asked.

“Well, they are both here, and not here, just as that branch is both a branch of Yggdrasil and a regular oak.”

“That’s not possible,” Merlin replied. “Two completely separate things cannot occupy the exact same space at once, besides, why can’t I see them if they’re here?”

The creature laughed somewhat, a strange sound that reminded Merlin of wind blowing through the reeds as they whispered, “Midas has ass’s ears.” Sometimes being able to hear and understand the entirety of the natural world was more of a curse than a gift.

“You’d be surprised at how many things you think are impossible are not only possible but are, in fact, realities. I’ll give you an example. My people and I are from a realm we call Aelfheim. It is a small realm compared to yours which is often referred to by your people as Midgard or Terra, depending on which tongue you speak. It has only as much land as your continent of Europe. This clearing, is in the exact same physical location as our first city, but it does not exist on the same physical plane as this one, but rather a separate one. Yggdrasil connects the two planes as well as many more in many locations throughout all the realms and just as new connections can be made between realms, new realms can be added though with such great difficulty that it hasn’t been done in ten thousand years.”

For a while, Merlin tried to wrap his head around this but eventually gave up and decided to return to his original purpose for coming here. “So you say that you know where I can find what I need to know?”

“Yes,” the creature replied. “There is a place, west of here and close to your home where you will find the answers. It is called the crystal cave and that is where the one known as the Amalgam resides. It can help you.”

Merlin recalled that his grandmother had mentioned the Amalgam before, but he’d never really been clear on what it or he or whatever it was, was. “What is the Amalgam?” he asked.

“The Amalgam is the culmination of all the souls of the great prophets of your world who have chosen to die in that cave. They sacrificed their souls to their god and became a part of it.”

Before the creature could continue and confuse Merlin even more than he’d been confused thus far that day, he said, “Okay, so how do I find this crystal cave?”

The creature drew a roll of parchment from her satchel and handed it to him. Merlin unrolled the sheet and found that it bore a map of Britannia and clearly marked on the map, was a place in Wales that Merlin presumed was this crystal cave. He rolled the parchment back up and looked at the strange creature. “Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t thank me,” the creature replied. “Had I not been directed to by the Norns, the mistresses of destiny within the realms, I would not have given you this information and I would not go so far as to call this information help. The Norns have foretold that though you will know more now, it will pain you greatly for many years to come.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what to make of this warning, but decided that it was best to just leave and be on his way. The following morning, he set off across the continent and back toward the British Isles once more. Upon crossing the channel between England and France, he continued his journey until he reached his destination. The cave entrance was small and the small hills to either side formed a kind of channel leading to its mouth. He entered the cave cautiously with his wand drawn, uncertain of what he would find.

Merlin wandered the cave for what seemed like hours, he had noticed that the cave walls had slowly gone from plain stone to a strange, transparent, and somewhat luminescent crystalline material. Eventually he came to a chamber that was completely filled with these crystals. Large and small, they jutted from every surface of the cave at odd angles. In the center of the chamber was a slab of the crystalline material about the size and shape of a bed but without the soft padding. Standing on the other side of the slab, back turned to him, was a man. At least it looked like a man. Again Merlin found himself looking at a thing that seemed to defy logic. Whoever this person was, they seemed to flicker, like a candle in the wind. When they did flicker, their image would shift and change like it was composed of thousands of different people from across time before it resolved itself back into its original form. Then Merlin remembered what the aelf had told him, that the Amalgam was a being composed of the souls of countless prophets who’d sacrificed their souls to join it. Merlin surmised, that this must be the Amalgam.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the Amalgam said, with the voice of a thousand people, “Yes, I am.” On the last two words however, Merlin noticed that the chorus of voices became discordant with countless voices saying different things to the dominant message. These discordant voices seemed to also say “we” instead of “I” and “are”, “was”, “were”, and “will be” at the same time as “I am”. If the strange chorus hadn’t been disconcerting enough, the fact that they didn’t all agree on what to say was even more so. Merlin wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Should he ask for the knowledge he’d originally come for or should he satisfy his curiosity as to the nature of this being and his strange home?

Once again, as if reading his mind, the Amalgam said in the same chorus of discordant voices, “You might find that the answers to all those questions are inextricably linked. And no, I cannot read your mind.”

“Then how--” Merlin began only to be interrupted by the Amalgam as it turned to face him.

“Because from my perspective, you have already asked those questions. I exist outside of normal time, just as this cave and its crystals do. I perceive everything that was, is, and can be the way you would perceive a landscape or a map. I don’t expect you to fully understand this idea for it is something that cannot be comprehended by a being such as yourself, bound to an existence where time is like an arrow, flying only forward in one direction.”

Merlin was glad that he was not expected to understand yet another apparent contradiction. The mystery of Yggdrasil and superimposed worlds had been difficult enough and even after having his waking thoughts haunted by the idea all the way back to Britannia from Saxony, he still could not understand it. “Okay,” he replied. “How do I learn prophecy then? How do I control it so I can see the future.”

“No,” the Amalgam replied harshly. “You do not see _the_ future, you see _a_ future. What you must understand, if you are to become the seer you seek to be, is that the future is never fixed and prophecies are not fate. Unlike the past which is constant and solid as the mountains, the future is fluid and can be influenced. When a seer makes a prophecy, he is not seeing the future but rather _a_ future. In order for this future to become history, to become fixed, it must be chosen. You must also beware that those who seek knowledge of the future often choose the future they seek to avoid without intending to.”

“So the things I’ve been seeing, they’re not certainties? I can change them? Prevent them?”

The Amalgam nodded. “But only if you choose rightly.”

“Which is why I need your help,” Merlin continued. “I need to know more about how these futures that I see will come about if I’m to make the right choices to prevent them.”

For a moment the Amalgam said nothing, then it said, “Look at the crystal to your right.” Merlin did as he was told. “You shall take it with you when you leave for it will allow you the focus and control you seek. But first you must learn to use it properly.”

Merlin broke the crystal off the wall from which it protruded and turned back to the Amalgam, “And how do I use it properly?”

“Gaze into it carefully. Focus your energies on the crystal the way you would on your wand and clear your mind. Allow yourself to see time as I do, even if you only catch a glimpse of it, you will see more than any other of your kind has before.”

Merlin tried to do as he was told for several moments. At first, he didn’t think anything was happening and was about to give up when he thought he caught a glimpse of something in the crystal. Merlin redoubled his efforts and a few moments later, the faint glow of the cavern that was reflected in the crystal began to distort and resolve itself into distinct images. Gazing into the crystal, Merlin saw Arthur and the Knights of Camelot engaged in a losing battle with what seemed to be pure darkness. One by one, the darkness surrounded them and snuffed out their lives.

As Merlin watched, panic and disbelief simultaneously rose in him. It simply couldn’t be. And yet the crystal showed him a future that was possible and so it had to be true. The _Shadow_ , his father, was still alive. Merlin could also see the proximity of the event through the crystal and it was remarkably like the Amalgam had said it would be. He saw the event as a location on a sea of futures, a twisting and turning tapestry of interconnected events. The more distant the event, the farther in the future it was. This event, was right in front of him.

Merlin broke his concentration, knowing that he must rush to Camelot before it was too late to save Arthur. In his haste to depart, Merlin didn’t even notice that the Amalgam was no longer physically present, or that it had left him a reminder of his earlier warning carved into the bed like slab in the center of the chamber.

_Those who seek knowledge of the future often choose the future they seek to avoid..._


	16. Shadows of the Past

# Shadows of the Past

The castle was strangely quiet. Merlin had expected to hear the sounds of combat as Arthur and his knights engaged the _Shadow_. Only no such thing occurred. Merlin had even begun to think that maybe, just maybe, what he thought he’d foreseen, wasn’t actually what was to come. Perhaps he’d misinterpreted the crystal vision. The only thing that kept him from accepting this hope wholeheartedly, was the fact that, in addition to being silent, the castle also appeared to be empty. Merlin could find no one. Not a knight or a guard or even Guinevere and Arthur.

Finally, as Merlin pushed open the door to the dining hall, he found who he was looking for. Arthur and Guinevere sat quietly at a table fully laden with food. At first Merlin was relieved to see them and exclaimed with relief, “Thank goodness I’ve found you! I thought you’d all gone someplace, or worse! I think I figured out this prophecy thing and I thought I saw…” Merlin trailed off at the looks on their faces. That’s when it occurred to him that it was rather odd that the table was set for four but only they were present, and they hadn’t touched a morsel. “What’s happened?”

His question wasn’t answered by either of them though. Instead a voice from behind him said in loud, harsh tones that echoed off the walls of the chamber, “I’m glad to see you were able to join us.” Merlin spun around to find the rather disconcerting figure of a man who looked almost identical to himself. It was like looking in some kind of bizarre and twisted mirror. Looking back at Merlin was a blond haired blue eyed man of his exact height and build, with his exact facial features. The only differences between them were their attire, the man wore all black, and the eyes. In place of Merlin’s gentle blue eyes like the sky or the ocean, were eyes like chips of ice or bolts of lightning. The mischievous grin on the other man’s face concealed a burning, hateful malice. “Welcome home son,” he said. “Please, sit,” he gestured to one of the seats at the table. “Last time I saw you you were little more than a slight bulge in your mother’s midsection. We have a lot of catching up to do.” When Merlin didn’t move the man said, “Now don’t be rude, your friends are waiting. After all, you’re the guest of honor tonight.”

Merlin sat at the table, dazed and confused with a million questions running through his head. What was the _Shadow_ playing at? Why hadn’t he just killed everyone and razed the city to the ground? Why hadn’t he just gone about his reign of terror? But more importantly, how was he still alive and why did he look like he hadn’t aged a day over twenty one? The _Shadow_ took the seat directly across from him. The four of them sat in awkward silence for a moment before the _Shadow_ asked, “Well, aren’t you going to pray or say grace or whatever it is that you religious people do before meals?” When his only reply was continued silence, he simply said, “Very well then, we might as well eat.” With that he dug into his meal.

“How are you here?” Merlin asked suddenly. The _Shadow_ merely raised an eyebrow prompting Merlin to elaborate, “You died. Nearly twenty years ago Lord Aurelianus mortally wounded you.”

The _Shadow_ swallowed before speaking, “Yes, he did. I would have had him sooner too if it hadn’t been for your dear father, _King_ Arthur now is it? You know I made a deal with him. He very badly wanted that throne you sit on now and he wasn’t a patient man. I wanted my unborn son back. It seemed we had a common enemy. Thus, Uther was to sabotage the combat in my favor and I was then to kill the Lord of Camelot, leaving him the throne and me my son.”

Clearly Arthur had never heard this of his father before. Arthur knew that his father had been a bad man but he never thought that he had been so evil as to collaborate with the most feared and dangerous wizard in the history of Europe, all so he could have the throne. Arthur’s expression was one of utter disbelief.

The _Shadow_ could tell that he’d struck a blow to Arthur and his mischievous grin widened as he relished in twisting the knife he’d just plunged into Merlin’s friend. “Oh yes, your father didn’t just try to get Aurelianus killed, he conspired with me to do it. But of course, he couldn’t be trusted. Probably because he knew that I couldn’t be trusted. I would have leveled the city after I’d gotten what I wanted anyway. So it seems that old Uther Pendragon was even better at the art of deception than I. He even managed to deceive his own offspring.” The _Shadow’s_ eyes drilled into Arthur further as if they were examining his very soul. “Tell me Arthur, how many things did Uther keep from you? How many things did your mother keep from you? You’ve been lied to so much, I’m surprised you haven’t gotten better at spotting them. But I suppose that’s just your nature. You must be the most gullible king to ever live. What things do you think other people are keeping from you right now? What lies has your dear wife told you or even-”

“That’s enough,” Merlin interrupted evenly, partly in an attempt to spare his friend further discomfort but also to hopefully avoid what Merlin knew was coming next. That is, what had _Merlin_ been keeping from him.

“You haven’t answered my question. How are you not dead?” Merlin repeated.

The _Shadow_ gave Merlin an angry glare and having his fun interrupted before replying. “Are you familiar with vampires?” he asked. “They’re creatures from Eastern Europe that feed on the blood of the living. While I myself am not a vampire, I discovered a means of sustaining myself that is rather similar to vampirism. It used to be, that when I found the young and healthy, I would simply torture and kill them, or play with them in some other way to break them down mentally before I did so physically. Now though, I eat them. I extract their youth and their health and their very life and incorporate it into myself. That is how I survived my stab wound and that is why I haven’t aged a day in twenty years.”

While the _Shadow_ seemed rather proud of this achievement, Merlin found the hideous parasitism disgusting. But Merlin remained stoic, not letting the _Shadow_ see any reaction from him lest he find some way to twist his way inside his mind as well. “Next question,” Merlin continued. “ _Why_ are you here?”

“I thought that would have been obvious,” the _Shadow_ replied. “I’ve come for the same thing I came for nearly twenty years ago. I’ve come for you.”

“And what makes you think I’ll go with you?”

“Because we’re blood. I’m your father Merlin,”

“No, you’re not my father. Father isn’t a noun, it’s an occupation.”

This prompted a loud cackle from the _Shadow_ that startled all three of them. When he finally calmed down, Merlin’s doppleganger said, “Did that dusty old druid tell you that? I suppose he told you that that fool Gorlois was your real father. In any case, the only reason I wasn’t around to be a father was that your mother, the ingrate, kept you from me.”

“Oh,” Arthur spoke up for the first time since Merlin had arrived. “I didn’t realize that Seraphina should have been grateful for being raped by-”

Again, the _Shadow_ burst out in laughter. “Is _that_ what she told you?” he asked. “That she was raped?” The _Shadow_ shook his head and attempted to suppress a chuckle. “She sought me out. Her husband, oh he was a good man, but she wasn’t exactly into good men. She married him more out of convenience than anything else. She may have been royalty, but she was by no means an heiress, she needed money, both for herself, and for her future children. Didn’t particularly matter to her who those children came from.”

Now it was Merlin’s turn to have his insides do a somersault. He’d always thought his mother had been virtuous. But he forced himself to push aside his turbulent emotions, at least for the time being. He needed his wits about him for this battle, just as he did for every battle. _That_ was his greatest asset. “You expect me to believe that my mother actively sought out a mass murderer who was renowned for his sadism?”

“Well,” the _Shadow_ replied. “I’d be lying if I told you that she sought out _me_ specifically. Rather, when our little love affair began, she didn’t know who I was, after all, there were very few people who had ever actually seen my face. But she fell for me nonetheless. At first it was little more than an indiscretion but before long she was stealing away to enjoy congress with me every chance she got. I eventually had her convinced that I could even provide for her, and I could have.

“Before she ran off with me, however, she discovered my true identity. By that point, you had already been conceived. She fled me and the rest you already know.” The _Shadow_ took another bite of his meal before continuing. “I can tell by your expression that you don’t believe me. It doesn’t really matter though, you’ll still come with me willingly.”

“Why would I do that?” Merlin asked.

"Because we’re two of a kind Merlin and that’s not just because we have the same divine blood flowing through our veins. There’s a darkness in you and a lust for power. You try to hide it, from your friends, from yourself, but we both know that it’s there.”

Merlin wanted to tell him he was wrong but it was Arthur who spoke again. “You’re wrong, Merlin is nothing like you.”

“Oh? I think Merlin’s old friend Baron Charles would disagree with you. Did he ever tell you what sorts of ignoble things he got up to while he was in that ridiculous school? The dark magic with mad old Professor Slytherin?”

Finally, Merlin’s armor broke, unable to deal with the guilt of his past flirtations with power. “Stop!” he shouted. “Yes, I’ve made mistakes, and once I might have turned out like you but I’ve changed. I chose to face my darker side and put it to rest. You embraced it in a mindless pursuit of power. You derive pleasure only from the destruction of others and have no higher purpose than yourself.”

The _Shadow’s_ expression turned truly angry now. “You presume to lecture me on selflessness? You think _you_ know more of sacrifice than a barbaric sadist like me? Is that it? Boy, I know more of these things than you ever will,” he said.

“Before I was even _born_ I was intended as little more than a human sacrifice to prevent my dear mother from facing the music of the war she deserted,” he spat. “I didn’t even get to know my own father. He was of about as much importance to her as a drone is to a queen bee. She used him for his seed and once I was conceived she disposed of him. She lectured me too, on duty, and honor, and self sacrifice. She said that I was to be the great savior of this world.

“What lies. She was just like your mother Merlin, like all people. They lecture and they talk about virtue and selflessness and love but deep down they all have their ulterior motives. They’re all just manipulating each other to gain an upper hand. Well I wasn’t going to have any of it. The only difference between me and the next guy is that I am at least honest about my motivations. I don’t pretend that I’m selfless or virtuous.”

Since he’d first learned that his father by blood had been the infamous _Shadow_ , the _Demon_ , Merlin had always had this image of him as some kind of otherworldly being of pure evil. Not so much a person as a formless evil wearing a man’s face and clothes. Learning the full truth of his heritage had only reinforced this idea. But now, the man who sat across the table from him seemed to him to actually be a man, with wants and pains of his own. For a brief moment, Merlin pitied him. He’d had the burden of saving the world thrust on his shoulders against his will. He’d been deprived even of the knowledge of his father and had had no one to fill the void until he trained with the druid by which point the damage had been done. The venom with which he spoke told Merlin that this man had never really become a man but had been left a very wounded child and his violence had been his reaction.

But the pity didn’t last long. As sad as the _Shadow’s_ story may be, he was still a mass murderer. “I won’t go with you,” Merlin said finally.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” the _Shadow_ replied. “But I understand that you might need a little motivation so I’ll cut you a deal. You will come with me, and to prove that you won’t just try and backstab me later, you will kill one of your dear friends here in this wretched city you call home. If you don’t do it by tomorrow morning, then I’ll kill _everyone_ on the whole island and leave you to weep over their bones.” Then, having finished his dinner, the _Shadow_ rose and began to leave the room.

“Why would I do that?” Merlin asked after him. “I know that you’ll just kill them anyway.”

The _Shadow_ turned back to face Merlin, his evil grin once again upon his face. “No Merlin, _you’ll_ kill them. After you’ve taken first blood, you’ll always want more, it’s in your nature. There’s nothing so sweet as killing another human being in cold blood.” With that he left the room, leaving Merlin alone with Arthur and Guinevere.

Merlin pushed himself out from the table and rose without touching a morsel. “I’m not hungry,” he said to no one in particular as he moved to leave.

“Oh no you don’t,” Arthur said forcefully as he rose to block Merlin’s way out with Guinevere right behind him. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Arthur,” Merlin protested, exhausted. “We haven’t got time for this. In case you haven’t noticed, my homicidal father has decided to spend the night and I need to come up with some way of taking care of him.”

“Why does it always have to be _you_ Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not the only one who has to do all these things Merlin, there are other people who can and want to help you. _We_ can help you, but first you need to tell us what’s going on.”

“How could you possibly help?” Merlin asked, somewhat miffed by Arthur’s presumption. “As I recall you were sitting here like a couple of terrified rabbits just a few moments ago.”

Arthur’s expression hardened. “Merlin,” he said, more forcefully this time. “You’re hiding something.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Oh? So who’s this Baron Charles? I suppose the _Shadow_ just made him up?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit. I’ve known you since we were kids Merlin, I know when something gets under your skin and that definitely did. And what’s this about dark magic you got up to with that ranger who came for you when you were eleven? You’re hiding something from us.”

“That’s none of your business,” Merlin replied angrily as he made another try for the door, having given up on trying to talk his way out of this one.

“Quite the opposite, Merlin. Since it’s got something to do with a man who’s just threatened to kill everyone in the alliance it’s _definitely_ my business,” Arthur replied. When Merlin didn’t reply, Arthur said, raising his voice and projecting the way he did when he heard petitioners and dealt with affairs of the alliance, “Merlin, I am your king and I command you to tell me--”

“You can’t be serious,” Merlin interrupted incredulously. “You’re just like your father.” That evidently hit a nerve because the next thing Merlin knew he was on the ground, his nose throbbing painfully and blood running down his face from where Arthur had hit him.

“Enough! Both of you!” Guinevere shouted. “You’re acting like a couple of children.”

Merlin picked himself up off the floor and wiped the blood from his lip, “It’s he who’s acting like a--”

“I said enough,” Guinevere interrupted. “Arthur, this man is your friend, not your subject, don’t treat him like one and Merlin,” she turned to face him. “You need to tell us what we need to know since the safety of the realm may very well depend on it. And _both_ of you need to calm down. You’re the King of Argentia and his chief advisor, you should start acting like them.”

Strangely, Guinevere’s scolding had snuffed out the fire in Merlin’s belly, and he found himself fiddling nervously with the crystal he’d taken from the cave before he’d come here. Merlin finally looked his friends in the eye and spoke. “Okay, I’ll tell you.” Merlin told them about his secret lessons with Professor Slytherin and the dark turn they had taken and how that, in addition to other problems that Merlin had avoided at the time rather than dealt with, had almost driven him to kill Charles in front of the whole school. When he’d finished, Merlin looked guiltily at his friends. “You see, not really relevant to our present situation,” he finished.

“I disagree,” Guinevere replied. “It’s clear that this has been bothering you for quite some time and that man used it to get under your skin. Now that you’ve gotten it off your chest you can think clearly and we can figure out a way out of this.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said.

“You probably don’t trust me anymore,” Merlin replied. “I can understand why. As soon as this is done with--”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Arthur, I almost killed someone who used to be my friend and then kept it from you.”

“ _Almost_ ,” Arthur replied. “You didn’t actually kill him and I truly believe that you’re better off now than you were. True, I don’t trust you as much as I used to, but we all make mistakes Merlin. Now let’s figure this out so we can get back on with our lives.”

They spent the rest of the night trying to hatch a plan to beat the _Shadow_ , a task that proved extremely difficult. They all knew that their enemy was clever and had only been beaten once and it had been a close thing that had killed the Lord of Camelot. Soon the sun was getting ready to peek over the horizon. Their time was up. “We have to do what he says,” Merlin said defeatedly.

“No, there’s got to be another way,” Arthur replied, though his face and tone of voice said the opposite of his words.

“There isn’t one,” Merlin replied. “I’ll go tell him that I’m ready. He’s keeping everyone else in the dungeons right?” Arthur nodded. “I’ll do one of them.”

“You’re right you will,” the _Shadow_ ’s voice echoed off the walls as he appeared out of a shadow holding Cadogan suspended in the air with his wand. “And I’ve even chosen him for you. I must say, I found it rather amusing watching you try to find a way around me all night, but in the end it seems you’ve come to your senses. I cannot be beaten.” The _Shadow_ dropped the knight to the floor and barked, “Now kill him.”

Cadogan picked himself up off the ground and looked Merlin in the eye. He knew what was happening, what needed to be done. Cadogan was ready to die for the island that had become his home. Feeling the guilt building inside him, Merlin raised his wand and leveled it at Cadogan’s head. He knew the words, and the motions. Two words was all it was, _Avada Kedavra_. But he had to mean it, he really had to want Cadogan dead and he wasn’t sure he could do that. “You know I still won’t be like you,” Merlin said, stalling for time though he knew there was no way they could get out of this.

“But you’re already like me,” the _Shadow_ replied. “What you did to your friend Charles should be enough to show you that.”

Merlin resented that the _Shadow_ kept returning to that incident. He wasn’t even sure how he knew about it, though it probably didn’t matter right now. For a moment, probably due to his lack of sleep, Merlin slipped back into his memories. He returned to the day he’d nearly killed the boy who’d once been his friend. How he’d attempted to curse Merlin before having it backfire when Merlin...

Merlin paused, suddenly snapped back into reality. Perhaps there was a way out of this after all, a way that didn’t involve using the killing curse, especially on one of his closest friends. Best of all, it was the _Shadow_ that had inadvertently led him to the solution. Merlin continued to stand with his wand aimed at Cadogan’s head, waiting for his deranged father to lose his patience and make the first move. It didn’t take long. “You _are_ weak, I can’t believe I actually took you for my son,” the _Shadow_ spat bitterly before aiming his own wand at Cadogan.

As the _Shadow_ began to utter the killing curse, Merlin carefully aimed at his wand hand and remembering what he’d done to make Charles’s spell backfire all those years ago he fired his own spell, timed so that it struck the _Shadow’s_ wand just as the killing curse was leaving it. Merlin’s disarming charm forced the wand to flip out of the _Shadow’s_ hand and the killing curse backfired, striking its caster rather than its intended target.

As Merlin’s doppelganger collapsed to the ground, his eyes dead and unseeing, Cadogan let out a breath of relief as he himself collapsed to the ground from the sheer stress and tension of the preceding moments. Guinevere rushed to see he was alright while Arthur went to Merlin who had strode over to the _Shadow’s_ corpse. “How?” Arthur asked incredulously when he reached his friend.

“A kind of sixth sense I suppose,” Merlin said. “You know.” Arthur nodded, though Merlin knew that he still didn’t quite understand. Merlin’s mind once again wandered back to his confrontation with Charles and for the first time in years remembered the voice that had urged him to do the deed and finish him off. It had been the _Shadow’s_ voice. Not only did the memory clarify how the man had known about it, but it also struck Merlin with great gravity. He’d known because he’d been with him, even if not physically, he’d been there. He’d always been there, until now. It was as if a weight had been lifted off him. This shadow from the past would no longer haunt him now.

“That was how you did it with Charles wasn’t it? When he attacked you,” Arthur said.

Merlin nodded, once again returning to the present. They both looked down at the body at their feet, even though he was dead, the malevolent and mischievous expression remained on the _Shadow’s_ face, Merlin’s face, but for a few minor details. “What should we do with him?” Arthur asked.

Even though cremation was still considered the respectful way of laying the dead to rest in Camelot and the _Shadow_ was hardly deserving of any such respect, Merlin knew that the body still had to be burned. “We have to burn him,” Merlin replied. “We can’t risk anyone having his body. He’s already cheated death once, we can’t risk him doing it again.”


	17. An Unexpected Reunion

# An Unexpected Reunion

The morning after his "duel" with the _Shadow_ , Merlin slept late. The events of the preceding days had been rather taxing on everyone. As soon as they had freed everyone from the dungeons, they'd burned the body of the _Shadow_. Surprisingly, no one had been killed. Merlin supposed that the _Shadow_ had intended to have Merlin kill them as part of his plan to make Merlin into little more than a copy of himself.

Despite the fact that it was well known that Merlin had been the one to finally defeat the feared wizard once and for all, the people who'd been incarcerated by the _Shadow_ still looked at Merlin with a kind of suspicion that wasn't there beforehand. Merlin guessed that it was probably partly due to their knowledge that they were, in fact, related but it was probably also the result of the striking resemblance. It was probable that some people wondered whether it had really been the _Shadow_ who'd been killed or if it had been the king's advisor instead.

Despite everything that had happened since he'd left in search of the knowledge of prophecy, Merlin found himself strangely at peace. Even the suspicious looks of passersby didn't bother him. He'd first noticed it when gazing upon the dead face of his father. It was as if a shadow had been banished the way the sun banishes night.

As the days once again turned to weeks and the weeks into months, Merlin busied himself with the various affairs of the Alliance and of Camelot, assisting Arthur and the Lords in their efforts to protect the realm and the efforts of the Commons to govern it. When not occupied with these things, Merlin spent time rebuilding the farm he'd inherited from Ekelhart. Once it was up and running again, it was once again one of the most productive farms on the whole island.

The pumphouse once again operated and had been expanded and water once again ran through the plumbing of the city. The engineer who'd coordinated the work had been commissioned by other lords to build plumbing systems in their cities as well. Through all this he never forgot why he'd left in the first place, he still pursued knowledge about Morgana's plans through the crystal he'd taken from the cave but it quite frequently yielded very little.

When he dined with Arthur and his knights, which was often, Merlin heard fantastic tales about quests and acts of bravery. For his part, Merlin didn't particularly believe any of them, save the story Cadogan told about the Wyvern of Wye. As he told it, Arthur had needed someone to go slay a Wyvern that had been terrorizing the West Country of England. It had been as a gesture of goodwill on the part of the Alliance toward one of their closest neighbors. Only Cadogan had volunteered and he'd sailed from Borthladd Britannia and pursued the beast after landing. When he'd finally come into contact with the wyvern, he'd engaged it. At first the engagement had seemed rather comical. "At first I yelled at it but the damn thing was so daft it didn't realize I was talking to it," Cadogan said smiling and somewhat red in the face from the amount of beer he'd consumed. "So, after giving up on that," he continued. "I went up and started poking at it with my sword but the beast's hide was so tough it didn't feel a thing. So eventually, I just got so fed up with trying to get the thing's attention that I just hit it with the most powerful stinging jinx I could manage and let me tell you, that was a mistake." Merlin couldn't help but laugh along with the rest of those present when he told his story. "Next thing I know," Cadogan continued. "The damn thing's spewing flame at me. Melted my sword, and my visor and even damaged my wand. I'd had the thing since I was eleven and now here's this singed half stick that keeps shooting off sparks whenever it damn well feels like it."

"Tell him what you did then," Bedivere urged on.

"Well, I went back for more of course! You see the thing managed to eat my horse so I had to hightail it on foot. When I found another mount, this fat little farmer's pony, I rode back into battle and got swallowed myself. Fortunately, my wand, damaged as it was, saved me from being wyvern lunch. The thing made it to the creature's stomach before I did and went off again, igniting the stomach fumes. Before I knew it, I was sitting coated in blood and guts and wyvern spit and surrounded by all sorts of body parts from the thing."

"He blew it up!" Lancelot, one of the more recent additions to Arthur's knights, exclaimed in excitement.

"I blew it up," Cadogan confirmed. "And that's how I slew the Wyvern of Wye." Cadogan's story, Merlin decided, was just outrageous enough to be true.

There was another quest, however, that Merlin knew to be true for he had shared in it. It had come to him in a crystal vision, one of the few that actually yielded anything of value. It had shown him of a dying king whose life was sustained only by water from simple silver cup. Through the crystal, the king had spoken to Merlin. He had told Merlin that he and his family had been guardians of the cup of life for thousands of years, but that he was dying and had never fathered any children. His kingdom had withered away centuries past and all that remained was him and the cup. He commanded Merlin to come take the cup to his kingdom so that when he died, it would not remain unguarded.

At Arthur's round table, they had all decided that it would be useful to have such an artefact, even if they didn't know the full extent of its power, they knew at least that it could sustain life in dire circumstances. It had taken them nearly three years of trekking across the British Isles in search of this king and his grail. When they'd eventually found it, they discovered that the king had in reality, long since died, causing them to question whether the cup had any power at all. But they had decided that they shouldn't leave empty handed and they returned to Camelot with the grail, locking it in the vaults beneath the castle.

Other than this, however, the crystal proved to be of little use to him and Merlin grew frustrated. At first he'd dismissed it as there not being anything of importance relating to Morgana but then he chalked it up to his inexperience with the object. In the end, however, he simply cursed the refractive rock as defective and useless.

Finally, nearly four years after his search for the crystal, Merlin gave up on it in exasperation. He had nearly resigned himself to doing nothing, when he remembered the mirror. The one with the silver frame that his grandmother had used to lead him to Avalon, and Excalibur. He remembered the Lady's warning, that it would probably try to kill him, but he ignored it. He was out of options.

Merlin went to the mirror and pulled the drape off it, revealing its glassy surface to the room. Merlin looked into the mirror, willing it to show him what he needed to see. The mirror did not disappoint. It showed him the streets of a city that he did not recognize, at least not until he saw the great structure, towering over everything else in sight. The Roman colosseum. Morgana was in Rome. Merlin continued to watch the mirror as it led him through the streets of Rome to his final destination.

Not long after, Merlin found himself riding up the Via Appia and into the great city of Rome. As great as it was, however, Merlin found that like most cities outside Argentia, it stank of refuse. Merlin continued to maneuver the winding streets of the city in search of his target until he came across a rather unexpected sight. "I can tell you're a great wizard sir, would you take me into your service?" said the creature at Merlin's feet in a voice that sounded at once high pitched and squeaky and low and gravelly, as if a goblin was trying to affect the sound of a house elf.

As it happened, when Merlin looked down to the creature, that was what _exactly_ it was. The goblin looked haggard and rather thin, as if he hadn't been eating well, which Merlin thought was rather unusual for a goblin. As avaricious as they were, it could not be denied that they were good at their various trades. But from the look of this goblin, it was clear he was destitute.

"But you're not a house elf," Merlin said confusedly.

At this, the hopeful expression on the goblin's features fell. "Clearly," he grumped in his normal voice.

"Then why are you pretending to be one?"

"I don't see that that's any of your business, now if you don't mind, I need to find someone I can work for before I starve to death."

Merlin was about to just leave it at that and be on with his mission, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What if I bought you a meal?" Merlin asked.

The goblin looked at Merlin warily before replying, "Fine."

As they sat at one of the tables in the inn, the goblin ravenously wolfed down the food that Merlin had bought for him. When he'd finally stopped to take a breath, Merlin asked again, "So why are you pretending to be a house elf?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," the goblin replied still grumpily but significantly less so now that he'd eaten.

"You know what I mean," Merlin returned.

The goblin looked at him before launching into his life's story. "I've always been considered odd among my kind, Selwig the Strange they called me. I've had rather strange ideas about how things should be and my study of history and all the conflicts that have gone on between goblins and humans only served to cement my ideas. I used to be quite a prominent craftsman among my people, but when it was discovered that I did not agree that things made by goblins belonged to goblins in perpetuity, I was shunned. But I wasn't completely ostracized until I made it clear that my works belonged only to the people I sold them to and whomever they chose to transfer them to and _not_ to self-serving goblins who wanted to usurp my works from their rightful owners. To make sure that nothing of the sort happened, I cursed everything I made so that if it was ever stolen, the thief would face the consequences, even long after I died.

"Thus, I was ostracized, everything that I had made that hadn't been sold yet was taken by other goblins, my workshop was destroyed, and I was forced to live like this. At least the ones who stole my last works are getting their comeuppance."

"So you were ostracized for thinking about property the way most humans do?" Merlin asked.

"In short, yes."

That's when the gears in Merlin's head began turning. "What if I told you I could get you a new workshop where you could work as you liked without having to worry about other goblins who might destroy your work again?" Merlin asked.

"I'd call you a liar," Selwig replied.

"And you'd be wrong to," Merlin returned. "Have you heard of the Argentian Alliance?"

"Only in passing," Selwig replied. "I hear it's some sort of new uppity island nation that fancies it can throw its weight around and revolutionize the world."

Merlin chuckled somewhat at that before replying, "Well, I wouldn't say we're particularly keen on throwing our weight around or revolutionizing the _whole_ world, but we do have a somewhat unconventional approach to national governance."

"You're Argentian?" Selwig asked.

"Yes," Merlin replied. "I'm from Camelot and I actually work for the king."

"Interesting. You know I met a young man recently, he's actually been helping me out some, mostly just protecting me, but he said that he knew a great wizard in Camelot who he was quite sure could help me out. He's been trying to convince me to go with him but I've been refusing because I haven't believed him. That wizard he spoke of wouldn't happen to be you would it?"

"I wouldn't know," Merlin replied honestly. "I've never met this person."

"He's probably out and about trying to get some money together himself, he isn't exactly much better off than I am except he's got a sword and some mail, tools of his trade you might say. I'll introduce you to him later tonight."

As interested as Merlin was, he also had things to do. "Sure, he replied. But I need to do some things first."

"Like what?"

"Well, I came here to track down and stop a potential threat to the Alliance and I've dallied long enough as it is."

"Well this young man can help you in that regard. If you wait for him to return, he can assist you."

Merlin thought the proposal over for a moment before agreeing. The only reason he'd come alone in the first place rather than with a number of knights or other forces of the Argentian military was that discretion here was key. If Morgana had heard of a large force of her enemies coming to find her, she would have likely fled and they'd have lost her again. They also wanted to avoid a potential international incident. At least this way he'd have some help.

Merlin waited with Selwig well into the night. According to the goblin, it wasn't unusual for this friend of his to be out late on some odd job and he didn't seem to mind the wait. Merlin, however, grew impatient as the goblin finally fell asleep.

Merlin was about to turn in himself when a movement outside the window of his room in the inn caught his eye. Merlin peered out into the night to see what it was and almost lost track of it before he saw a black cloaked figure hurrying down the street. The person seemed to be doing everything in their power to remain hidden. Merlin, tired of waiting and suspecting that this person might lead him to Morgana, followed behind them, though he was much less conspicuous than the individual he was following.

Eventually, he caught up to the individual who had snuck into a building via a side door. Merlin followed. Just inside the door there was a narrow stair. One set led up the other down. At the bottom of the downward leading steps, Merlin could see the faint flicker of firelight and heard the conspiratorial whisper of hushed voices. Merlin drew his wand and cast a disillusionment charm over himself and descended the stairs, treading as softly and quietly as he could.

When Merlin reached the bottom, he found exactly what he expected, and feared he'd find. But he was taken by surprise when he found himself bound and once again, captured by Morgana. "Thought you could try your tricks again did you Emrys?" Morgana mocked. "Didn't think we'd see that coming?" she asked as she cancelled his concealment charm revealing him to the gathering. Merlin noticed that every one of Morgana's new allies carried a wand. That was when he realized what she was doing.

"You're building an army of-"

"Gens magica," she interrupted, "yes."

"You see Emrys," she continued, "I've realized why I lost now. I relied too heavily on the gens non-magica to fight my fights for me. But now… Now things have changed. This world was meant for us to rule and the gens non-magica were meant to serve us. I'm going to give you another opportunity to join me Emrys. All you have to do to gain my trust is to lift your sacred vow."

"I've already refused you once Morgana," Merlin replied. "What makes you think I'll accept your offer now?"

Anger flashed in Morgana's eyes as she lashed out with her wand, cursing a cut into Merlin's chest. The sting of her curse caused him to gasp in pain as blood began to seep from the wound and wet his clothes. "You'd be a fool not to!" she screeched. "You may be clever Merlin but I am more powerful than you ever will be and even more so now that I have chosen to surround myself with the _right_ people. People who are not only loyal to me but to the cause of magical supremacy! You would do well to do the same."

Merlin had known that Morgana wasn't exactly sane well before they'd met the first time, but it was becoming clearer that her instability was growing. She was becoming increasingly monomaniacal. Fighting through the pain of the curse, knowing that he had indeed been a fool for falling into Morgana's and the mirror's trap and that he was likely about to die, Merlin replied, "Thanks, but I'll still pass."

"Very well then, I'll just have to find another way around your so called sacred vow." Morgana raised her wand again and Merlin could sense what was coming, she was getting ready to kill him. Merlin braced himself when everyone was startled by a loud bang at the top of the stairs. Before anyone could react, spells were flying from behind Merlin, striking the gathered wizards. Merlin thought he heard the slicing of flesh with steel but he couldn't be sure, at least not until the person who'd come to his rescue came into view.

"Mordred?" Merlin asked in surprise. It had been years since he'd seen the boy but Merlin could still recognize him.

"You know him sir?" a voice from behind him asked as the magical ropes binding him were undone.

Merlin snatched up his wand before turning to find that it was Selwig who'd released him. "Yes," he replied before firing off spells of his own to aid Mordred. "Mordred!" he called.

The young wizard turned to face Merlin and realized for the first time who it was that he was rescuing. "Merlin?"

"We need to go Mordred, there's too many and she's bound to have sent for more."

"You're too right Emrys!" Morgana cried from the corner as she sent more curses flying and him, Mordred, and Selwig.

Mordred, not wanting to leave but understanding that this was a battle they couldn't win, simply nodded and reluctantly followed Merlin and the goblin out of the building as they retreated. When they'd finally crossed the threshold onto the street, Merlin repaired the door and locked it with a number of special spells to slow down Morgana.

"You're bleeding," Mordred remarked.

"We'll take care of it later," Merlin replied. "Now grab onto my hands, both of you."

"What?"

"Just do it, we need to get out of here."

The two did as Merlin said, "Now hold tight as if your life depended on it, because it does." When Merlin felt them both tighten their grips, he spun on his heel and with a crack, the three vanished from the street just in time for Morgana to finally blast down the door.


	18. A Timely Warning

# A Timely Warning

"I thought we'd already discussed this and concluded that we would not be allowing a goblin anywhere near the King's sword," Lord Aquila said in his usual harsh tones as he glared at Merlin and then at Selwig.

After Merlin had apparated away from Morgana's forces with Selwig and Mordred, they'd hidden away in the Alps until Merlin's cut had healed. When they'd finally made it back to Camelot, it was four days before the annual council meeting. Merlin had told Arthur of what had happened, and had requested that Selwig be allowed to examine the sword which he'd told the goblin of during their brief time in hiding. Arthur had told him that that was a matter for the entire council to decide and so they'd had to wait.

"That was during the war," Merlin replied, "when the sword was far more critical to our national security than it is now. Furthermore, I thought we'd already established that Selwig is not like most goblins. He does not think of property as they do and as I recall that was the objection of the assembled lords to having a goblin examine Excalibur."

"And how do we know that he's telling the truth?" Lord Seraph asked with a sneer. "For all we know, the great trickster may be having a trick played on _him_."

"It would be quite the trick indeed then," Merlin replied. "Considering I found him poorly clothed, malnourished, destitute, and impersonating a house elf just to survive, all because his ideas of property were like ours rather than those of his kind."

"Why would a goblin do these things if not to deceive us?" Lady Easton asked rhetorically.

"Out of principle," Selwig growled. "But if you great and noble lords are too prejudiced to realize that there can be exceptions among races then I'm perfectly content to leave this country and seek employment elsewhere." Selwig turned to leave but Merlin stopped him.

"Please," he said. "Just give them a chance."

"I will if they will," Selwig growled back. Now that he'd had more to eat over the past few days he was in much better condition and behaving much more like a stereotypical goblin, at least in terms of mannerisms and personality. In short, he was back to being stubborn and disagreeable.

Merlin turned his attention back to the gathered lords at their seats. Presiding over the meeting was Arthur who had yet to say anything on the matter in his official capacity as King. "I swear that Selwig is trustworthy. Not only can he tell us more about the sword, but he is also willing to enter into the service of the Alliance. He's an excellent craftsman and he has said that he may be able to produce swords similar to Excalibur for all the lords and maybe even the army."

Evawn spoke up for the first time since the meeting had begun, "I say we let the goblin stay and be done with it, we have more important things to worry about than whether or not this Selwig will steal Excalibur. And if Merlin says he can be trusted, that's good enough for me." This caused some murmuring as the council discussed the issue among themselves for a moment. When they finally voted, it came out as a tie, six to six. Arthur broke the tie in favor of allowing Selwig into the service of the Alliance.

That had been the easy part. Now was the more important business that Evawn had alluded to earlier and that was the issue of Mordred. When Merlin had told Arthur of what had happened, it had immediately aroused suspicion from both him and Evawn and Aquila who'd also been present. "How did he know where to find you?" Lord Aquila had asked at the time.

"I don't know, does it matter?" Merlin had replied.

"Yes," Evawn had replied.

"Merlin," Arthur had interjected, "I know you're friends, but you haven't seen each other in years, how do you know that he isn't working for Morgana?" The truth was that Merlin didn't really know, but he still trusted Mordred and was willing to vouch for him. Mordred had even submitted to interrogation to prove himself to them.

"Have you come to a decision regarding Mordred?" Merlin asked as he looked over to see the guards escorting Mordred into the council chambers.

"Admittedly no," Arthur replied.

"He's submitted to questioning, under veritaserum no less," Merlin argued. "You know he isn't a threat."

"Actually, we don't," Lord Aquila replied. "What we do know is that he's a wizard with a somewhat murky history and that, as good as it seems to be, veritaserum is not the most reliable of methods as there are ways to get around its effects.

"As such, we're going to give Mordred Slytherin-"

"Just Mordred," Mordred interrupted with some bite in his tone. Merlin had first noticed it when they were hiding in the Alps. Mordred had become particularly sensitive about his father. It hadn't been until they'd started their return trip to Argentia that he'd finally opened up about what was going on.

As it happened, Professor Slytherin had sort of lost his mind. He'd become progressively more narcissistic and wary of those born of the gens non magica and even the gens non magica as a whole. Mordred told him that he'd put a giant statue of himself in the Chamber of Secrets and had started using the place to teach more students the dark arts. He'd even boasted of hatching a basilisk which he would place within the chamber to exact his revenge after he'd left the school. "I'd hoped that maybe you were right, that if he had me back, he'd mellow," Mordred had told him. "Apparently not though. Eventually, I just couldn't be around him anymore. I never finished my studies at Hogwarts."

"Mordred," Lord Aquila corrected, bringing Merlin back to the present moment. "We're going to give you a chance to make your case to us all before we make our final decision."

Mordred stepped forward and replied, "I understand why you're reluctant to trust me, but if your interrogation has revealed anything, it's that I am trustworthy. Everything I told you under veritaserum was exactly what I told you beforehand. But even if you don't believe that the veritaserum was fully effective, then please try to remember why I've had to hire myself out as a mercenary and personal bodyguard. I left my father because he'd become an insane magical supremacist. Why then, would I join forces with other, even more insane magical supremacists like Morgana?

“Finally, and you may or may not believe this but I don't care because it's the truth. Even though we've only just reunited after years apart, Merlin is still one of my closest friends and someone I admire and look up to. I would never betray him, or his friends. In fact, I wish to be of as much service to him and his country, and his best friend, King Arthur, as possible. Which is why I ask to be allowed into the King's service as a knight of the round table." Mordred then unsheathed his sword and lay it on the ground before the council along with his wand as he knelt before them.

This elicited a cacophony of surprised murmuring from the council and an outraged response from Lord Seraph who cried, "Such presumption! You _dare_ -"

"Yes, I dare," Mordred interrupted. "For I seek to serve a better man than you." Mordred, still kneeling, turned to face Arthur. "And I seek to do it as best I can."

"You make a compelling argument Mordred," Arthur said after the murmuring had died down and an indignant Lord Seraph took his seat once more. "And given what we learned from your voluntary interrogation as well as your reasons for leaving your old family, I do not think I can question your motives for coming here, but do you understand the commitment required to be a knight of the round table? You wouldn't simply be serving me, you would serve the entire Alliance."

"I wish to serve," Mordred insisted.

Arthur merely nodded in reply. "Very well, if that is all you have to say, then I think we had best get on with our decision on whether you may remain in Argentia before we discuss whether or not you will become a knight."

"Before we vote," Lord Hutmorda interjected. "I would like Merlin to vouch for Mordred, so that it's clear that he trusts him completely."

"I would, and already have trusted Mordred with my life," Merlin replied.

In a few short moments, it was decided that Mordred be allowed to remain and he was dismissed from the chamber as they proceeded to handle the business of what to do about Morgana, now that it was clear that she had plans to return and that her plans involved establishing rule by the gens magica.

Of course Lord Seraph had to point out the folly of letting Morgana live in the first place but Merlin reminded everyone of the magical oath that bound her. Indeed, if she had any sense at all, she would have simply given up but it seemed that she had entirely lost her sense as no one could think of a way she could get around her oath. Neither she, nor any of her men was able to lay a finger on Arthur, and as long as they had Arthur and he had Excalibur, they couldn't lose. Still, this knowledge was small comfort and they all made war preparations anyway. One of Merlin's ideas was to create a special order of wizards, similar to the Knights of the Round Table but one that spanned at least the British Isles and maybe even beyond. "After all, this should concern everyone, Morgana intends to conquer the world and establish magical rule." Merlin's request was granted and although he protested against having his name put on it as the order was about a cause, not a person, it was still agreed that the order would be called the Order of Merlin.

It was nearly sundown by the time they broke the meeting and Merlin walked tiredly back to his chambers to find Mordred waiting outside. "Is everything alright?" Merlin asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Mordred replied. "Everything's fine. I just wanted to thank you, for all you've done for me."

"Don't mention it," Merlin replied as he pushed open his door. "Was there something else?" he asked, noticing that Mordred still lingered just outside.

"Yeah, I was hoping we could talk, you know, catch up. We didn't exactly get much time to talk between Rome and here and you've been tied up with all sorts of official business the past few days."

"Sure," Merlin replied.

"Unless," Mordred began somewhat tentatively. "Unless you're too tired, then I'll let you rest."

"No no. No, Mordred, it's fine. Come on in." Merlin closed the door behind Mordred who took a seat at Merlin's desk.

One of Gorlois's old books sat open on it, the crystal rested on a corner of the table. Mordred looked at them curiously, before the mirror caught his eye. "What's that?" he asked.

Merlin turned to face the mirror and hurriedly rushed over to cover it with a sheet. "Nothing," he said hastily. "Well, not nothing," he corrected more calmly at the sight of Mordred's suspicious look. "It's a kind of magic mirror. I don't fully understand it yet but it's how the Lady of the Lake led me to Excalibur, and then it's how I wound up in Rome. Only, that last one turned out to be a trap. The Lady did warn me that it might try to get me killed."

"A murderous magic mirror huh? Any other adventures you want to tell me about?" Merlin chuckled at that prompting Mordred to press the issue, "Come on, you've heard my story. My leaving Hogwarts, working as a mercenary. I think it's your turn. You must have plenty of stories, being King Arthur's right hand man."

"Well, you've already heard about the rebellion no doubt," Merlin replied with a smile.

"You mean the one where you single handedly kicked Morgana and her Saxon mercenaries off the island using only your wits and a bunch of theatrics?"

Merlin laughed, "I assure you, _those_ tales are greatly embellished. I did not single handedly win the war. But there _was_ a lot of trickery and theatrics."

Mordred laughed in response before saying, "Then why don't you tell me what _really_ happened."

So Merlin did. He filled Mordred in on the past several years they'd been apart, skipping over the more mundane parts of life since the end of the rebellion. This continued past sundown until Merlin got to the _Shadow's_ reappearance in Camelot after decades of people presuming him dead. "Now," Merlin said quietly. "Now he actually is dead, his own killing curse backfired and now he won't kill anyone again."

"That must have been hard," Mordred said sympathetically.

"What must have?"

"Killing him. I mean, I know he was a bad guy, but he was still your father."

"I suppose," Merlin replied. "But I never really thought of him that way, at least I don't think I ever have. I thought of him as blood, but never quite as a father. That would have been Gorlois. To be honest, the hardest part wasn't casting the spell that I knew would result in his death, it was just seeing him. He looked _exactly_ like me. It was like looking in some kind of demented mirror. And then there was what he said about my mother."

"What was that?" Mordred asked. "I mean, if it's not too personal."

Merlin didn't really hear Mordred though, he was lost in thought. "He said that she had sought him out. That she'd been unfaithful and only withdrew from him when she discovered who he really was. That she'd lied about being raped by him."

"And did you believe him?" Mordred asked, his tones now as hushed as Merlin's as he watched the elder wizard stare into the fireplace.

"I never really stopped too long to think about it. But I suppose… it doesn't really matter to me anymore. Both my blood parents are dead and whatever happened, it happened decades ago. If my mother did betray her husband then she was wrong to do so but that doesn't change the fact that she and Gorlois still raised me well or that the _Shadow_ was an evil man. If anything, it just goes to show that life isn't nearly so clear cut as we'd like to think it is. Even the _Shadow_ had his reasons for what he did. In the end he was really kind of pitiable. He allowed his anger at the people who'd tried to control him to turn into a desire to destroy everything and in the end, it destroyed him. The man I met wasn't really much of a person, just the shell of one. Everything that made him human... It had all just been emptied out and replaced with pure malice."

Merlin looked up, breaking out of his reverie. "I should probably go to bed, it's late."

Mordred nodded and rose to leave. "It was good talking with you again Merlin," he said as he stood in the doorway. Then Mordred closed the door behind him as he left.

The first order of business the following day was having Selwig inspect Excalibur. Merlin and Arthur were both present when the goblin came to have a look at the sword. The other lords had left early in the morning to return to their own cities to make the preparations they had planned the previous day in council.

When Arthur unsheathed Excalibur Merlin once again felt the strange sensation that it seemed to cast upon those in its vicinity. Selwig, however, seemed unaffected. The goblin leaned in close to examine the sword as it lay upon the table, gleaming in the early morning sunlight that poured through the windows. He ran his hands over its hilt and its blade, eyeing it so closely that his face nearly touched the metal. He turned the blade over and changed its position, seeming to observe how it caught the light. All the while, he grumbled and murmured to himself.

When at last he was finished, he cleared his throat and spoke, "It is an interesting blade indeed, and quite powerful."

"Can you tell us who made it?" Arthur asked.

"No," Selwig replied. "But I can tell you that it _wasn't_ made by goblins _or_ men. If I believed in such things I would say it was divine. But needless to say, it is unlike anything I have ever encountered before and I doubt that even I could tell you the full extent of its abilities. However, I do believe I can glean enough information from it to produce replicas, of sorts."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked.

"I can make other swords like it, they won't have all the same power and what power they do have will be lessened in magnitude. They will also be tied to the power of this sword so that if it fails, then so too will they. But it would give you a significant advantage over any enemies, even more so than you already have."

"How many can you make?" Arthur asked.

"Not many, it will take all my skill and knowledge to make them and no small amount of time and effort. I will probably only be able to manage one for each of the lords."

Arthur nodded. "Good, just let me know what you need to get the task done and you shall have it."

"Of course," Selwig replied as he handed the sword back to Arthur who sheathed it. "I shall also need the original while I produce the child swords. But that can wait until I have my workshop set up and materials ready."

"Thank you," Arthur and Merlin said simultaneously to which the goblin's only reply was a slight bow.

The next thing on Merlin's list was to send word of the creation of a special order of wizards to defend against Morgana throughout the British Isles. He expected very few would actually answer his call but he was pleasantly surprised when he got more than he expected. As he set to training his men, Mordred set to training to become one of Arthur's knights. Although he was already rather skilled, owing to his choice of work after he'd left school, Mordred still had much to learn and the other knights made sure he did. While Mordred learned their code of honor and conduct by heart, Merlin taught his order the importance of their work. While Mordred acquired those few skills he had yet to learn, the Order of Merlin learned the use of the new skills that only Merlin himself could teach them.

It had only taken Mordred a short while to get up to speed with the rest of the Knights of the Round Table and in the same amount of time, Merlin had sufficiently established his order of wizards to promote peace between the magical and non-magical and to root out Morgana's forces, wherever they hid. The day Mordred was knighted, Merlin invited him to his chambers again. "What is it?" he asked.

"I wanted to show you something," Merlin replied as he pushed open the door, Mordred following close behind, now clad in the armor and crimson cloak of the knights. "When I first brought Arthur Excalibur, we had been in the midst of a battle with Morgana's forces. There hadn't really been much time for him to decide what to do with his original sword, Clarent, the sword that belonged to the Lords of Camelot. So he just gave it to me and I used it as we fought for our survival. As you probably guessed, we eventually won the day, but Arthur's never really come back for his sword, not that he'd really need to, he's got Excalibur now and soon all of the lords will have one of Selwig's swords." Merlin drew out the sword. "You've done well, Mordred," Merlin told him. "You're probably the youngest of the Knights in history."

"It's not a very long history," Mordred pointed out.

"Still, quite an achievement," Merlin insisted. "Now, I don't have much use for swords myself. True, I'm better with them than I used to be but I've always been better off with my wand than with a sword. So… I'm giving it to you." Merlin held out the sword for Mordred.

When it finally dawned on Mordred what Merlin was doing, he held up his hands. "Hold on," he protested. "I'm sorry Merlin, I can't take this. This is Arthur's sword."

"No, Mordred, I've spoken with him. He's been quite impressed with you and he consented to letting you have it."

"But still," he protested, "I can't take it. Besides, I've already got one," Mordred pointed to the one that currently hung at his side.

"Mordred, just take it. It's goblin made and will serve you better than even the best swords made by men." When Mordred hesitated, Merlin continued, "Mordred, you know I get this prophecy thing sometimes right? Well, there's been one prophecy that keeps recurring and until recently I didn't really know what it meant. I still don't fully understand it but one thing I do know is that Arthur is in grave danger and will continue to be until Morgana is defeated. I won't always be around to help protect him so I need someone I can trust. Mordred, I'm asking you to be that protector and I want you to be the best you can at it. You're already good, but you'll be that much better with Clarent." Mordred hesitated a moment longer as he looked into Merlin's eyes. When he was satisfied with the older wizard's sincerity, he graciously accepted the sword.

The months flew by as the Alliance finished making its preparations to ward off the impending attack by Morgana and the Order of Merlin grew in number. When the preparations were finally complete, Merlin was confident that they'd be well prepared for anything Morgana could hope to throw at them. Argentia was secure, or so he thought.

Merlin had finally gotten around to dealing with the magic mirror that had led him into Morgana's trap. As men carried the now covered looking-glass out of his chambers, Merlin thought he caught a glimpse of something in the crystal. He turned to face it, trying to ascertain what it was he had seen. He only spent a moment doing so, however, as he still needed to make sure the mirror made it to the right place in the vaults beneath the castle. So, Merlin left his chambers and followed the men out into the hall and through the corridors and down the staircases of the castle. As he went, Merlin consciously dismissed what he thought he'd seen as a trick of the light. After all, he hadn't been able to see anything in the crystal since the quest for the cup of life.

Merlin's curiosity got the better of him though, for when he returned to his chambers, he immediately closed and locked the door and shut the heavy curtains, leaving the room in total darkness. Merlin gazed into the crystal, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he'd seen before. He was about to give up again when he saw it. At first, he thought it was another prophecy about Morgana, but as he looked more closely into the oceans of time, it became clear that what he was seeing was much farther out in the future, and even stranger.

He could tell that there was some kind of war going on but it was a very strange war indeed. The first vision was a line of men and a few women standing as still as statues and facing straight ahead. They carried odd metal devices at their sides that Merlin thought somewhat resembled spears without spearheads. Merlin also noticed that they didn't wear any plate or mail armor.

The scene then shifted to reveal a faceless man dressed all in black. He seemed to be giving some sort of speech to the crowds below him in some strange foreign language. As he spoke, the equally faceless crowd cheered, apparently overjoyed by what he said. The scene shifted once more and Merlin saw the shores of Argentia near the port of Borthladd Britannia.

Merlin could tell that this was soon to be a battlefield. The men that Merlin had seen earlier, with their strange metal devices, swarmed over the beaches and charged toward the line of Argentian soldiers, fully armored and swords drawn. As the Argentians themselves charged toward the invaders, the strange soldiers halted their motion and knelt in the sandy beaches. They pointed their metal devices at the oncoming Argentian soldiers and then, all at once, there was a cacophony of bangs that emanated from the strange soldiers and their metal devices.

A moment later, the charging Argentians fell and Merlin realized that these strange weapons had been what had killed the soldiers. Moments later, as the strange soldiers continued to cut down the Argentians, giant metal birds soared thunderously overhead, dropping objects onto the buildings and port of the city which then exploded violently in a blaze of heat and light, scattering debris through the city.

Merlin came out of his vision breathing rapidly and sweating. Even though he knew that this was a vision of a far off future, he was still shaken. The fact that he'd seen Argentian men in their ordinary attire and with their ordinary weaponry facing off against men who could kill from a distance with machines that launched strange and deadly invisible arrows that could penetrate even plate and mail, men who didn't even use armor, at least not any armor that Merlin understood, told him that they would be terribly unprepared for this future war. They had to do something, but what?

Merlin sat for several moments in the dark, trying his best to figure out how on earth they could prepare for such a conflict, one where they knew little about the weapons and one that would take place so far in the future. He thought back to the strange metal devices that he'd seen, how fast and how far they flung their invisible arrows.

Then it occurred to Merlin that perhaps, what had killed the Argentian soldiers in his vision had not, in fact been invisible projectiles, but rather projectiles that were so small and moved so fast that the eye couldn't catch them. Then Merlin remembered back to his talk with Frederick van Alrick as they'd rode through Saxony in search of the strange creatures that he'd been told could help him uncover the mysteries of prophecy.

The man had mentioned a weapon that the Chinese had made. One that could propel arrows farther and faster than anything yet made in Europe. Merlin wondered if such a thing could be modified. He wondered if it could be improved upon to produce a weapon that could propel something no bigger than a pebble so fast that it could not be seen and that it would penetrate even the best plate armor.

Now somewhat calmer than when he'd first exited his crystal vision, Merlin knew what he had to do. He began to pack his things in preparation for his journey. He'd have to journey to China and speak with their alchemists. He had to know the secrets of this fire-powder.


	19. The Alchemist

# The Alchemist

“I still think this is a waste of time,” Frederick protested. “He won’t tell us how to make the fire powder. It’s something these people guard very closely.”

“I think I can manage to convince him to make an exchange,” Merlin replied. “And if not, I’ll just have to trick him. I’m good at that if you remember.” On his way to China, Merlin had stopped in Saxony and convinced Frederick van Alrick to come with him on his mission. Merlin spoke many languages but none of them were anything remotely like the tongues of the Chinese. He needed someone who had already been to the country and knew the language. The Saxon had thought from the start that Merlin would never succeed in getting the fire powder but he’d come anyway when Merlin promised to pay him handsomely for his assistance. Even in retirement, the man could not pass up an opportunity to make some money.

“What kind of exchange?” the Saxon asked. “What do you hope to give them? Your Argentian silver won’t be enough and besides, you still have yet to pay me the rest of what I’m owed.”

“You’ll get paid,” Merlin reassured as they stood waiting outside the doors to the alchemist’s workshop, “ _after_ we have the formula.” At that moment, the doors opened to reveal the alchemist they sought. Merlin had heard that this man had developed a new form of the fire powder and a new kind of weapon to use it with, one that supposedly could propel small rocks as fast as lightning and penetrate armor where previously there had only been arrows propelled by the substance. The alchemist said something and Merlin looked to Frederick to translate for him.

“He welcomes us to his workshop and says that he is pleased that the West has taken an interest in his work. Apparently they don’t see many westerners around here,” the Saxon said.

“Tell him we are grateful that he has received us and that we would be most interested to see his work,” Merlin replied. Frederick translated after which the alchemist bowed and motioned for them to follow him.

Merlin was quite astounded by what he saw around him. He had never been in an alchemist’s workshop but this seemed less like a workshop and more like a kind of factory. All around them, resting on shelves, were enormous jars of various powders and pastes. In the center of the workshop was a large array of equipment, various glasses and cups, a mortar and pestle. As Merlin took in his surroundings, he heard the alchemist speak again, drawing his attention to him and the jar he was holding.

“He says that this is the fire powder,” Frederick translated as he took the proffered jar and showed it to Merlin. Inside was a somewhat coarse black powder. “He says he can give us a demonstration if we’d like.” Merlin nodded and Frederick spoke to the alchemist.

They were then led to another section of the workshop where a device that reminded Merlin of the metal weapons from his vision rested. It was aimed at a plate of steel that appeared to have multiple deep indentations and a couple of holes even. The alchemist set to work preparing the device he had lined up. He poured a measured amount of the black powder into the tube that made up the bulk of the device. The powder was then followed by rocks. The alchemist then rammed a rod down the tube and packed everything together. Once he’d set up the device Merlin and Frederick watched as he went over to the steel plate and used his wand to repair it. The alchemist then spoke again raising his hands to his ears.

“He says we should cover our ears,” Frederick explained. “Apparently it’s quite loud.”

Merlin did so and as soon as he and the Saxon had covered their ears, the alchemist aimed his wand at a small hole in the side of the tube and sent a thin stream of flame into the tube. The resulting explosion was so loud that Merlin flinched, even though he had done his best to protect his ears. The flash of flame that had emanated from the tube along with the bang had seared itself into Merlin’s vision. Merlin and Frederick turned their gaze to the steel plate to find that, like before, it was riddled with dents and holes from where the pebbles had struck it. Merlin went over to investigate the plate, touching it, just to make sure that his senses didn’t deceive him. As he walked over to the device the alchemist spoke again.

“He wants to know what we think,” Frederick translated as Merlin sniffed the air around the device and wiped some black residue from the inside of the tube on his forefinger.

“It’s amazing,” Merlin replied, still not quite believing what he had seen. It wasn’t nearly on the level of what he’d seen in his vision, but it was a start and it was certainly better than a fire arrow. Frederick was about to translate for him when Merlin looked up at the Alchemist and asked, “How much do you want for it?” When Frederick translated, the alchemist couldn’t help but smile, clearly pleased that Merlin and Frederick were pleased with his work.

***

It was hours later before they left the workshop, and they were leaving empty handed. “I told you we wouldn’t get the formula,” Frederick pointed out smugly. All they had managed to get in terms of offers from the alchemist were supplies of the powder and the device he’d designed. “Now where’s the rest of my pay.”

“I told you,” Merlin replied, “you won’t get it until we have the formula.”

“And how do you expect to get it?” the Saxon asked angrily, feeling he’d just gotten the raw end of a deal. “In case you didn’t notice the guy wasn’t interested in goblin made armor and weapons or any of your silver and it’s not like your tricks did you any good.”

“None of the tricks I’ve tried _so far_ ,” Merlin pointed out.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that we’re still going to get the formula. It’s just going to take a little more work and cleverness,” Merlin replied prompting a suspicious look from his companion.

“If you’re thinking of some kind of heist then I’m out,” the Saxon declared sternly.

“Okay,” Merlin replied in a reasonable tone. “That’s fine, but I guess that means you don’t get the rest of your pay.” Merlin let the statement hang in the air for a moment before looking at the Saxon.

Eventually, Frederick relented. “Fine,” he said. “What’s your clever plan oh prince of charms?”

“We wait until nightfall, the alchemist is unlikely to be awake then and will almost certainly not be in his workshop. Then, we sneak in--”

“And what if he’s put up charms that’ll tell him when someone’s walking through his door without his sayso?”

“We won’t go through the door,” Merlin replied.

“Okay then, the window or however else you think we’re going to get in.”

“We’ll apparate, so far, that’s a skill that’s not extended far past me and my order and certainly hasn’t left Europe. Thus, there shouldn’t be any countermeasures for it,” Merlin replied. “Now if you’ll allow me to finish,” he continued with some annoyance. Frederick merely nodded. “After we’ve snuck in, we go to where he keeps his notes. You can read his language right?”

“Of course,” the Saxon replied.

“Good, then we’ll find which ones have the formula and I’ll use a duplication charm on them. We then take a small sample of the fire powder and we apparate away and the alchemist will never be the wiser.”

“Don’t you want that contraption of his?” the Saxon asked.

“It is interesting, I’ll admit,” Merlin replied. “But I think I can improve upon it.”

Frederick rolled his eyes. “You know, I was wrong,” he said. When Merlin gave him a confused look he continued, “We are nothing alike. You’re far too arrogant for your own good.”

“It’s not arrogance if you can actually deliver,” Merlin replied eliciting a scoff from the Saxon.

Thus, the two waited for nightfall until they were certain that the alchemist was no longer keeping an eye on his workshop. Then Merlin grabbed Frederick’s hand, gripping it tightly and with a crack, they apparated into the workshop. As soon as they felt solid ground beneath their feet again, however, it became clear that something was wrong. It wasn’t so much a feeling or even some sort of out of place smell or sound, rather, it was the fact that the lifeless form of the alchemist lay at their feet, staring sightlessly up at them. Immediately, Merlin and Frederick dropped down low and drew their wands. Merlin knelt down and inspected the alchemist’s corpse. “Killing curse,” he said. “His body’s still warm so whoever did it is still here.” Merlin began to creep over to the cabinet where the alchemist stored his notes.

“Where are you going?” Frederick asked angrily.

“To get what we came for,” Merlin replied. He continued on his way as Frederick cautiously followed, his wand at the ready. Just as Merlin was about to round the corner of the long table that bore the now dead alchemist’s equipment and reach the locked cabinet with his notes, he heard the rustle of robes just on the other side of the table.

Merlin had just realized what was happening and had barely jumped back in time for the alchemist’s killer to call out of the dark, “ _Avada kedavra!_ ” The jet of green light barely missed him as he nearly toppled into Frederick. As soon as the light had dissipated, Merlin and Frederick jumped up and began firing curses in the direction the killing curse had come from, each flash of their wands eerily illuminating the dark workshop and everything in it. The wizard they had found likewise returned fire but was no longer firing killing curses. Merlin guessed that in the heat of the moment, it was a little difficult for him to pull off the execution.

The three of them continued to duel in the dark, none of them hitting anything but the jars of fire powder and other substances that sat on the shelves and on the workshop table. Fortunately, the other wizard was smart enough to not use any fire spells, lest he kill them all in a great explosion. Merlin and Frederick continued to fire into the dark, hoping to catch their attacker when a reductor curse struck the door to the cabinet that held their prize. Thinking quickly, Merlin realized that that had been no accident, the other wizard was there for the formula as well. “Keep him occupied,” Merlin shouted.

“How about we just try not dying,” Frederick called back as Merlin aimed his wand at the cabinet and summoned all its contents to him.

As they flew to him, Merlin found one of the many candles that littered the workshop and lit it. The dim light from the small flame revealed quite the mess of ceramic and fire powder as well as various other substances. The light also somewhat startled their attacker who Merlin recognized from Rome as one of Morgana’s soldiers.

With the alchemist’s notes now secure and their assailant momentarily stunned, Merlin gave the candle, which lay on its side a slight push so that it would roll into a pile of the fire powder that had come from one of the shattered jars. As soon as he did this, he grabbed Frederick once more and apparated to just outside the workshop. Mere moments later, the building exploded leaving nothing but debris and a rather large crater.

Frederick turned an angry glare on Merlin. “You stupid little--”

“We got the formula didn’t we,” Merlin interrupted. “And we survived, and on top of that, Morgana, who’s as much your enemy as she is mine, now has one less soldier in her army of sorcerers. I don’t know about you, but I call that a win.”

Exasperated at Merlin’s risky behavior but too tired to argue any further, the Saxon collapsed on his back. Merlin did the same and moments later, they were both laughing uncontrollably both in relief and in joy at their unlikely victory.


	20. Ill News

# Ill News

“So you stole it,” Arthur said sternly as he and Merlin walked down the corridor to the throne room, on their way to entertain petitioners.

“No,” Merlin replied. “I _saved_ it from Morgana. Do you realize what she could have done if she’d had that formula?”

“But you took it without the alchemist’s permission,” Arthur insisted. “I’m pretty sure that’s called theft.”

“Arthur, he was already dead and Morgana’s man was the one who’d done it and he was going to take the formula until we showed up,” Merlin replied. “If we hadn’t been--”

“Actually,” Arthur interrupted. “That’s a good question. Why _were_ you there?”

“We were going to break into his cabinet and--”

“Steal it?”

“No,” Merlin replied. “Duplicate it and then leave. He’d still have the formula, it’s just that we would too.” Arthur shook his head at Merlin as they pushed through the side door to the throne room. “You know it needed to be done Arthur,” Merlin insisted, finishing the conversation as he took his position to the right of the throne and Arthur sat down in the chair next to Guinevere. Today, they were acting as the Lord and Lady of Camelot. Even though Arthur headed the Alliance, he still had to fulfill his duties to his city, as did his chief advisor.

So the days continued fairly normally. Frederick had already translated the formula for Merlin and Merlin had let him keep the rest of the alchemist’s writings. Merlin set to work trying to develop the new fire powder weapons. It was rather difficult work, trying to get the mixture of ingredients just right and more than once his attempts to duplicate the material, even from the formula, blew up in his face. Between this and his other duties to Camelot, the Alliance and his order, it was months before Merlin was satisfied with his admittedly somewhat modified version of the fire powder and the device that used it.

Though he was satisfied with his final design, Merlin knew it would still be years before they could produce the devices, the powder, and the specialized ammunition, which consisted of small lead pellets, en masse. Thus Merlin set to it straight away. As soon as he had finished copying his version of the formula and the designs for the device and ammunition down, he duplicated them and rushed them down to the castle messengers with special instructions to deliver them to certain Order of Merlin officials who would take care of starting up the mass production endeavor. As Merlin was returning to his chambers he came across a rather sweaty and oddly sullen Mordred. Merlin guessed that he had been training with the other knights since he was still in his full armor. He thought that perhaps Mordred had finally met his match but at the same time Merlin knew it wasn’t like Mordred to sulk over a defeat.

Merlin was about ready to ask about what was wrong when he was accosted by one of the castle pages. “There’s a message for you sir,” he said, holding out a folded sealed parchment for Merlin to take. Merlin accepted the letter and noticed that it bore the seal of Luke’s order. Anxious to read the news from his friend, whom he’d heard so little from for so long, Merlin forgot about Mordred for the moment and continued to his chambers. When Merlin broke the seal and opened the letter, however, what he found was not to his liking. His first clues that something was amiss were the fact that the writing did not appear to be in Luke’s hand, and the person who had addressed the letter had used Merlin’s full name, “Merlinus Ambrosius”, rather than “Merlin”. Merlin read through the letter feverishly, then he read it again to make sure he hadn’t read it wrong the first time. Then he read it again and again, until it was well after sundown. Merlin then summoned Arthur, and Cadogan, and Mordred, everyone who knew Luke and knew him well.

Arthur had been the first to arrive. “What is it Merlin?” he asked. Merlin did not reply. He merely sat by the light from his fireplace until Mordred and Cadogan had arrived, tired and in their bedclothes. They too inquired what was the matter. Merlin merely handed Arthur the letter who began to read it aloud. “ _Master Merlinus Ambrosius,_ ” he read. “ _I am Brother Gabriel, a friend of Brother Luke’s and like him and yourself, of the gens magica. I write to you now because Brother Luke is no longer able to. He is with the Lord now. It is most unfortunate the way he died, at the hands of men who were supposed to be his brothers and who were supposed to follow the word of the Lord. He was accused of heresy and executed on the grounds that his practice of curing pox with his wand, which the gens non magica believed to be a mere stick, and of using illusions to draw rabbits out of the communion cup were forbidden pagan practices. Though he did much good for people and helped to bring joy to and ease the suffering of the communities we visited, he was still betrayed. In truth, it was probably his goodness that was his downfall as his light outshone that of any others in our order._

“ _He spoke very highly of you and your other friends and would have written more frequently had the Lord’s work not occupied him so. Thus, I felt it only right that I should write to you to inform you of his passing. I know these are ill tidings but I hope that you can find peace in the knowledge that he has undoubtedly now entered the Garden of the Lord._ ” When Arthur finished he lowered the letter from his face.

“Let me see that,” Cadogan demanded, snatching the letter from Arthur who looked pityingly at their friend who sat stonefaced and still in his chair, staring into the fire. Cadogan read and reread the letter just as Merlin had before they’d come. “This can’t be right,” he insisted. “It has to be a fake, some kind of ruse. Morgana must be behind this!”

Merlin stood up and shook his head solemnly, “I checked,” he replied. “I gazed into the crystal, Luke’s been...” Merlin trailed off as his voice broke and his expression began to contort into one of anguish. Arthur moved in to embrace him and he didn’t protest as tears streamed from his eyes and onto his best friend’s shoulder.

Cadogan collapsed into the chair that Merlin had formerly occupied. “It can’t be,” he whispered to himself. “It just can’t be.” Mordred’s face was as stoic as it had been when he’d first arrived, though certainly less tired. They all remained like that for several more minutes before Mordred turned and stormed out of the room leaving Merlin, Arthur, and Cadogan to commiserate.

“Come on,” Arthur said eventually, tears also running down his cheeks. “Let’s get you to bed. It’s late.” Merlin merely nodded, not in any mood to argue.

“We should have a service for him,” Merlin said. “I know we don’t have a body to cremate but...”

“Of course,” Arthur replied. “Now to bed.” Once in his bedclothes, Merlin collapsed on his bed and drifted off to sleep shortly after Arthur and Cadogan had left his chamber to return to theirs.

That night Merlin had another one of his dreams. He wasn’t sure if it was prophetic or not, it certainly had that feel, but Merlin didn’t particularly care either way. He was still broken up over the news he’d just received. Morgana was in the dream, Merlin saw, and so was another man though he couldn’t make out who it was. The two spoke in hushed tones, barely above a whisper. “You were right,” the man said. “My father was right. Maybe they _are_ too dangerous to be left alone...”

“What changed your mind?” Morgana asked.

“A friend of mine was just killed, by the gens non magica. Killed for what he was, for what we _are_ ,” the man replied.

“So you’ve decided then?” Morgana asked.

The man hesitated. “He wouldn’t like it,” he said.

“He doesn’t understand,” Morgana replied gently, seductively, drawing closer to the man. “He can’t. But _you_ can.” She moved her head closer to his and they embraced each other in a moment of passion before dissolving into a black mist, out of which flew a serpent with the wings of a raven.

When Merlin awakened, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon and come in through his window. His eyes were still red and puffy from the previous night and he wanted more than anything to simply lay in bed the rest of the day, maybe even the rest of his life. But he knew he couldn’t sleep his life away. He had duties to attend to, and there were other things that he had decided to do that day as well.

Merlin had decided he’d write to Helena and Charles, telling them of Luke’s death. It had been so long since he’d had any contact with them. He knew that he hadn’t exactly left things on good terms with them but Merlin thought that, at least for him, the injury they’d done to him had finally healed. He had truly gotten over their differences. “They should know,” Merlin said to himself as he got dressed for the day. “They were his friends too, once...”

Thus, Merlin went on with his day. When he met Arthur and Cadogan later in the day, he found them as subdued as himself. Mordred was nowhere to be found but they just dismissed it as his way of grieving.

Later that evening, Merlin told Cadogan what he planned to do and the knight insisted on helping to write the letter. Neither of them really knew where their former friends were anymore but they figured that sending the letter to Hogwarts was the best place to start. So they wrote out the message and sent it along to Hogwarts with Archimedes. A matter of days later, Archimedes returned, but the letter he brought bore news that was nearly as bad as the one they had received from Brother Gabriel.

“They’re dead,” Merlin told Cadogan. “Charles killed her in anger and then he killed himself.”

“I guess,” Cadogan began tentatively, “that’s not all that unexpected.” As bad as it sounded, Merlin had to agree. Charles had never gotten over Helena and he’d had something of a temper, something which he apparently hadn’t lost after their school days.

Merlin continued to perform his duties in the days that followed, though his heart wasn’t completely in it. Eventually they had the service for Luke. It was a solemn affair and attendance was voluntary but everyone who had known Luke, veterans 6f the rebellion whom he’d treated and many of whose lives he’d saved on more than one account came to pay their respects. They shared stories of his great skill, his enormous kindness, and as some put it, his equally enormous midsection. It hadn’t caused the wound to completely heal, but the service had provided some closure for Merlin.

The days soon bled into weeks and the weeks into months. Selwig had finished the swords he had promised the Lords of the Alliance and life went on for the people of Argentia much as it had since the end of the rebellion. Then the day came when the news everyone had been fearing for so long at last arrived. It had been over a year since Luke’s death. The council had been in session when the doors to the council chamber burst open to admit two rather harried looking Order of Merlin scouts. Despite their condition, they were quite energetic and a deep sense of urgency burned in their eyes.

“You dare disturb--” Lord Seraph began before being silenced by glares from all the other council members.

“What is it?” Merlin asked anxiously, already knowing what was to come. “What news do you bring?”

“It’s Morgana,” one of the scouts replied. “She’s arrived.”

“Tell us everything you know,” Arthur said calmly, though Merlin could tell he was just as anxious as he was.


	21. Camlann

# Camlann

"So she's taken residence at the abandoned fortress of Nordklipper," Lord Aquila remarked.

"And she has an army with her," General Evawn continued as the lords and their various advisors looked over the map of Argentia. "Not as many as we have, probably five or six hundred, but they're all gens magica."

"Why that fortress though?" Lord Hutmorda asked.

"Indeed, why?" echoed Lady Easton.

"Because she knew we wouldn't look there," Merlin replied. "It's the last place anyone would look. If I hadn't ordered my scouts to search every corner of the British Isles as soon as we'd heard of her return from the East we would have never found out."

"I think the more important question is how," Lord Cadwalader pointed out. "That fortress has been cursed for centuries. It should be utterly uninhabitable."

"Well, she does have an army of gens magica," Merlin pointed out. "No doubt at least one of them knew how to break curses, and Morgana's own skills are nothing to sneeze at."

"And yet you're the one who let her live," Lord Seraph pointed out.

"Please, let's try to be helpful Seraph," Arthur interjected.

"How should we proceed then?" Lord Cadwalader asked. "Wait her out? Try to outlast her in a siege?"

Arthur shook his head, "That won't work. She has an army of sorcerers. Even though there's only five or six hundred of them they'd be able to tear down the walls of any city before they came in range of our missiles. Then they'd level everything and execute everyone, and that's if we got lucky. What's more, if the scouts were right, then she has at least one dragon. Waiting behind our walls would only get us roasted alive."

"Well we can't just storm the fortress!" Lord Seraph protested.

"He's right," Lord Aquila agreed. "The Pirate King built the place to so that only he and his fleet could access it. It's built high on a cliff with walls so tall and thick that it would put the Trojans of legend to shame. There is but one entrance, on the seaside, but it is carefully concealed and no doubt heavily guarded."

"I know," Merlin replied. "The only reason it was abandoned in the first place and the Pirate King defeated was that the Romans paid handsomely for Antiocus Peverellus to curse the place with that elder wand of his."

"Couldn't we just curse it again?" General Evawn asked.

Merlin had to smile somewhat at the man's question. "Your faith in my abilities flatters me," Merlin replied. "But I am not so skilled as the Peverell brothers, at least not in curses. And even if I was, even I would have trouble casting a curse that couldn't be broken Morgana and six hundred other gens magica."

"It seems our only option is to attack the fortress," Arthur concluded. "The question is how."

"We could blockade the fortress on the sea-facing side with our navy," Lord Aquila offered. "Then, while they lie in wait for her to send ships out and thus reveal to us where the entrance to the fortress is, we attack on foot. Even an army of sorcerers with a dragon needs to eat at some point."

"That's if we can maintain the siege," Lord Hutmorda pointed out. "All it will take is for some of our ships to burn in the bay or for her men to start cutting ours down with curses for her to have gained victory."

At length Arthur asked, "She should still be bound by the sacred vow shouldn't she?"

Merlin nodded, "If she'd found some way to nullify it, I'd know."

"So neither she nor her men can harm me, at least not yet, and we still have Excalibur _and_ its children forged for us by Selwig. While I still stand, even while she has the fortress and the high ground, we still have that advantage at least."

"And if this dragon destroys you?" Lord Seraph asked. "What then? As far as I know, a dragon is not a man."

"True, but the dragon will not attack men of its own accord unless it feels immediately threatened by them," Merlin replied. "If she does have a dragon, then it is not there willingly. It is a very difficult thing, keeping a dragon under control as a weapon of war. If it does attack Arthur, then it will have done so because it was directed to by its handler."

"Then that also gives us a way to neutralize the dragon, at least without killing it which would be equally as difficult as controlling it," Lady Easton interjected.

Merlin nodded in reply. "We free the dragon from its handler, and it will almost certainly flee the battle before it can be recaptured."

"Are the firelancers ready?" Arthur asked, referring to Merlin's devices for using the fire powder.

"Not yet," Merlin replied. "We don't have enough of the devices made yet nor do we have enough ammunition."

"But do we have at least some?" he pressed.

"Yes, but they've been trained to fight as units, if we-"

"We don't have a choice Merlin," Arthur interrupted. "Some of them is still better than none. Gather your best men. We'll take them with us."

"So we mean to lay siege to Nordklipper then?" Lord Cadwalader asked.

Arthur nodded. "It's our only real option. Gather your forces," he instructed. "We must all meet on the field of Camlann before the week is out. I will also be sending some of my knights with you, as guards. We shouldn't rule out the possibility that Morgana knows we've discovered her and will try to send assassins to impede our efforts."

With that, the council broke and the various city leaders went off to write to their cities to begin preparing their troops immediately so that they would be ready to depart immediately upon their return from the council. Arthur instructed the navy, much of which was docked at Camelot, to begin their own preparations and to send word to the rest of the fleet. Merlin for his part, sent word to everyone he could within his order as well as the captain he had put in charge of training the firelancers to prepare for the siege. Just as Merlin had finished sending his final message on its way via one of the many owls he had acquired for his official communiques, he heard a rumor from one of the knights that he didn't much like.

Merlin began to search the castle for Arthur. When at last he found him, he said, "Tell me it isn't true."

"You'll have to be more specific," Arthur replied as he gathered provisions for himself for the journey to Nordklipper.

"Mordred," Merlin said. "You've assigned Mordred to be one of Lord Aquila's guard?"

"Yes," Arthur replied. "What of it?"

"Arthur, _you_ are the priority here. If you fall then Excalibur's power is lost and all the other swords lose their power as well. That could be the difference between victory and defeat in a siege like this."

"And what does that have to do with Mordred?" Arthur asked.

"Arthur, you know that he's the best of your knights. He's skilled with a sword and is one of the greatest wizards of our time," Merlin argued.

"And so is Cadogan," Arthur replied.

"Arthur."

"Merlin, I am well skilled with a blade myself," Arthur pointed out. "I will be well guarded, even without Mordred, my armor is goblin-made and its integrity has been confirmed by Selwig. _And_ I hold Excalibur. I will be fine." Merlin wanted to protest but he was silenced by the look his friend gave him, a look that said, "Leave it."

"Fine then," Merlin replied at length. "Mordred stays with Lord Aquila, but at least allow _me_ to help guard you."

Arthur waited a moment before nodding and replying, "If you can do that _and_ direct your own men at the same time."

"Thank you," Merlin replied before turning to leave his friend.

"One more thing Merlin," Arthur said, catching him as he was about to pass through the doorway.

Merlin turned back to face Arthur and asked, "Yes?"

"Guinevere has been feeling a little under the weather lately. It's a somewhat more recent development and with the battle preparations, we don't have any of the regular physicians available to look at her. Would you mind just paying her a visit? I know it's not your area of expertise but-"

"I'll see what I can do," Merlin interrupted. "Luke taught me a few things before he left." The mention of their lost friend's name stung them both a little, but far less than it would have months ago when they'd first heard of his death.

"Thank you," Arthur replied with a smile before returning to his own preparations.

Once he left Arthur behind, Merlin began to search the castle for Guinevere. When at last he found her, he told her that Arthur had asked him to take a look at her and see if he could do anything for her apparent illness. "It's not too bad," she replied. "It comes and goes."

"What are the symptoms?" Merlin asked.

"I've been really tired lately," she began. "I sometimes get nauseous without warning but no vomiting. Some minor headaches. I'm also not eating like I used to."

"How do you mean?" Merlin asked.

"A lot of the things I used to like just make me sick now."

"Are you still eating enough?"

"More than usual actually," Guinevere replied. "Just different things I guess."

Merlin had a hunch as to what was troubling his friend's wife, but he had to be sure. "Guinevere, would you mind spitting in this cup?" he asked as he held out a small cup. When he noticed her reluctant and somewhat disgusted expression he continued, "Or pee if you'd prefer that. I just need some body fluids and I'd rather not bleed you. It's for a potion that'll hopefully tell me what's going on with you."

Guinevere eventually acquiesced and spat in the cup for Merlin. "Thank you," he said. "It'll just be a few minutes now." With that, Merlin set to work on his preparations. When everything was in order, he poured the saliva into the bubbling cauldron and waited for his answer. When he had it, he rose from his chair. "I'm going to find Arthur," he informed Guinevere.

"Is it bad?" she asked worriedly.

"No," Merlin replied with a smile. "Not bad at all."

When he'd finally returned with Arthur he apologized for the wait. "I just figured you'd both want to get the news at the same time," he explained. "Arthur, Guinevere," he began, "you're going to be parents."

For a moment they were silent and then Arthur asked, "Are you sure?"

"Quite," Merlin replied with a smile. "This was one thing that Luke made absolutely sure I knew how to do before he left. In fact he expected this to happen a lot sooner."

Wide, joyful smiles broke out on his friends' faces. They were soon laughing. "I'm going to be a mother," Guinevere said disbelievingly, tears of joy running down her cheeks.

"And I'll be a father," Arthur said.

"No," Merlin replied. "You'll be a _great_ father."

"You know what this means right?" Guinevere asked.

"What?" Arthur replied.

"It means that you _have_ to come back."

"Don't worry," Arthur replied as he moved in to kiss his wife. "I will, I promise."

"I'll leave you two alone," Merlin finally said, rising from his chair to leave. As he closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but smile. Perhaps, despite all the bad things there were in the world, despite men who murdered their brothers in faith and wizards who sought to rule mankind, perhaps there was enough good to make it all worthwhile. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out well after all.

***

The forces of Argentia had all met on the fields of Camlann and were now completing the march to Nordklipper. Merlin noticed that there were far more of them than there had been when they'd fought the rebellion and the men were better equipped and better trained than they had been in those days and that was encouraging to know. He could see some veterans of the rebellion among them, reminiscing about old times, but he also saw some new faces. Green soldiers eager to prove themselves and serve their country. Merlin stayed close to Arthur and his guard, keeping his own men close in case he had to send his wizards or his firelancers to fight at a moment's notice. Though everyone was quite certain that Morgana was still at her fortress, Merlin knew that if anyone were to try and surprise them by battle on an open plain, it would be Morgana. Thus, they had also sent scouts out ahead of them and to the sides of the large force to warn them if Morgana's forces were approaching.

Thus far, it seemed that she would remain in her fortress and try to wait out the siege. Merlin hoped that their luck would hold. If Morgana chose to meet them in open battle, she'd almost certainly send her dragon first. The beast could roast the entire army alive if it was directed to do so by its handler. Fortunately, they had a contingency plan for such an event and even though it wasn't a very good plan, it was still the best they had.

It was while Merlin thought of these things that he spotted the mounted scout riding back toward the bulk of the force at top speed. Merlin tensed as he pointed out the rider to Arthur who halted the column of men when he too saw the scout. Once the scout was near enough to be heard, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "The enemy approaches!"

Arthur wasted no time in giving the order to prepare for battle and no sooner had the men spread out to avoid the dragon's flame than the very beast they had prepared for soared overhead, unleashing a bestial roar right before belching flames upon the nearest group of soldiers it could find. Mounted on the back of the dragon, keeping careful control over the reigns that bound the beast, was one of Morgana's sorcerers, dressed in robes of black with a white dragon embroidered on the back.

Merlin had to struggle to give orders to the wizards and firelancers under his command, trying to yell over the crackle of searing hot flame and agonized screams of the men whose flesh it melted like candle wax. "Firelancers, wizards!" he shouted over the noise. "Take out the dragon's handler!"

As soon as his men began to fire spells and projectiles in the direction of the beast, Morgana's foot soldiers appeared over the horizon. Once the two armies had sighted each other, Morgana's men took advantage of the confusion and devastation raining down from the dragon and charged into the Argentian forces.

Once the forces met, it was all chaos. The Argentians were scattered in small clusters in their effort to avoid the dragon's breath which it continued to pour out on the back half of the army which had yet to encounter Morgana's foot forces. Left and right, curses struck Argentian soldiers. Some cried out in agony as they were cut open or pierced by invisible blades, but many of them simply fell to the ground, eyes wide and empty. Despite this, the groups held fast and strong. Merlin was thankful for the power of Excalibur which Arthur now wielded bravely, trying to cut down as many of the sorcerers as he could. He was also thankful for the swords that Selwig had made for the other lords, swords that drew on and amplified Excalibur's powers.

The Merlin and his order were now occupied trying to defend the firelancers from attacks by the enemy foot soldiers. Meanwhile, the few men they had armed with the fire powder devices fired into the air relentlessly, trying their best to hit the man who controlled the dragon. At first Merlin had tried to continue to direct the other small groups who were combating the foot soldiers to come together and strengthen their forces, but his shouting was in vain, even with his voice magically amplified. The sound of steel ringing off of shield charms, the sizzle of all manner of martial magic soaring through the air, and the cacophony of explosions from the firelancers drowned out any and all intelligible speech.

As the battle raged on, Merlin noticed that not a single one of Morgana's men had pursued Arthur. In fact, they actively avoided him and did their best not to be run down by him and his guard so as to avoid being killed. "Excellent," Merlin said to himself. Morgana was still bound, she hadn't yet figured out a way around the magic that kept her to her word. But these thoughts only led Merlin to wonder why she'd chosen _now_ to attack rather than wait in her fortress. The knot in Merlin's stomach tightened as he considered that perhaps, things were going more or less as she had planned, despite not being able to neutralize the power of Excalibur.

Finally, without warning, a body fell from the sky, smashing one of Morgana's men underneath it. Merlin noticed that the one who had fallen was also one of the enemy and he looked up to see the dragon departing the battle, it's reigns trailing behind it, no longer in the hands of its rider.

"I hit him!" one of the firelancers that Merlin had been guarding whooped. His celebration was short lived, however, as a curse hit him causing him to double over. Merlin turned to find that the poor young lad had vomited copious quantities of blood. In anger, Merlin fired a spell of his own back at the caster, sending the enemy soldier flying high through the air to land with a sickening crunch several yards away.

By now, Morgana's men had noticed that they no longer had any air power and the fear that Excalibur and its children had been inducing in them turned to panic. They turned and fled, doing their best to not be struck down as they ran off to regroup. As the enemy regrouped, so too did the Argentians who fortunately still had numbers on their side. As the last of Morgana's men left the foray, Merlin overheard one cursing, "Where the _hell_ is the Black Knight? The King was supposed to be dead by now."

At first Merlin was confused by the statement but then it dawned on him what Morgana's plan had been. She meant to kill Arthur here and now and to wipe up the whole of the Argentian forces all in one fell swoop. But she couldn't kill Arthur herself, nor could any of her men do it, her vow prohibited it. The vow did, however, prohibit one of Arthur's own men killing him.

As the realization dawned on Merlin, that there was a traitor in their midst, he began to leave in search of this "Black Knight". Merlin did not recall having any such knight in the service of the realm but supposed that it was probably a marker, to allow the enemy to know who _not_ to kill. At first Merlin thought only to look among the knights until he realized that the traitor didn't necessarily need to be a knight, he just needed to be dressed like one, with all black armor. As Merlin weaved his way through the ranks of their army, which was now pressing its advantage against the enemy, moving forward steadily in an attempt to encircle Morgana's forces like a great maw closing in on its prey, he came across Lord Aquila. At first he was inclined simply to pass him and his guard by when he noticed that Mordred was no longer among his guard.

"Where's Mordred?" Merlin yelled over the noise of the pounding feet and rattling spears and swords.

"What?" was the lord's reply.

"Sir Mordred, from your guard," Merlin repeated.

"I gave him leave to protect the King," Lord Aquila replied.

At first Merlin was inclined to simply leave, relieved that his friend probably yet lived. Then one of the other knights guarding Lord Aquila said, "He was a bit odd about it though."

"Odd how?" Merlin asked.

"Well, he turned his cloak black before he left."

Then it dawned on Merlin. He put the pieces together, his dream with the mystery man and Morgana, the raven and the serpent, Mordred's strange behavior from before they'd learned about Luke's murder. On the one hand Merlin wanted to simply deny it, on the other, he was shocked at the betrayal, but on still another hand, Merlin knew he had to act. Mordred was the Black Knight and he wasn't going to protect the King, he was going to kill him.

Quick as he could, Merlin rushed through the ranks of their forces. As he neared the front lines he could see that as the Argentians pressed forward with their attack, the enemy continued to flee, desperate to escape their impending doom. Merlin was nearly back to Arthur when he saw Mordred emerge from the ranks of the surrounding soldiers and make to strike his friend. "Arthur!" Merlin yelled.

Merlin's call caught his friend's attention, but only too late. Even as Arthur realized himself what was happening, Mordred thrust Clarent, the sword that had once been Arthur's, into the King's side. Merlin felt the pain he saw displayed on his friend's face as he continued to rush to his aid, hopeful that he could still save the man. Arthur's pain quickly turned to disbelief and then to rage as he thrust Excalibur into Mordred's midsection. Both men released their grips on their respective swords and collapsed to the ground just as Merlin arrived, dropping to his knees next to his friend.

As Merlin drew out his wand, using it to tear open Arthur's now disempowered goblin made armor so he could treat his wound, the entire battlefield felt the magic that had emanated from Excalibur leave them like a receding tide baring the seashore to the cold sky above.

"Protect the king!" Merlin called, ordering his wizards to form a protective ring around them. Merlin motioned to Cadogan, "Tell Lord Aquila that Arthur has fallen but that we must continue to press the advantage. We still have to win this." Cadogan nodded and reluctantly left Merlin, Arthur, and Mordred within the circle of wizards. "I need a physician!" Merlin called.

"Don't waste time with me," Arthur ordered. "It's not too bad." In truth, it seemed that he was right. Though the goblin made sword had pierced Arthur's plate and cut through his mail it seemed to have only made a small cut on his side, little more than a graze. At the same time though, Merlin's friend looked weak and in pain, as if something was happening to him on the inside, something that couldn't be explained by the rather minor blood loss that had occurred through the cut which Merlin had now sealed.

"Arthur," Merlin insisted. "You look much worse than 'not too bad'."

"We don't have time," Arthur said. "Excalibur needs someone to wield it. Someone needs to finish the battle."

"Lord Aquila is doing that," Merlin replied.

"Not well enough, his sword has no power so long as Excalibur is without someone to use it. We are faltering."

As much as Merlin didn't want to admit it, he knew Arthur was right. Their attempts to defeat the enemy had already become more of a struggle as the enemy had no doubt felt the retraction of the swords' power as surely as the Argentians had. True, they had superior numbers, but the enemy still had magic at their disposal.

When the physician finally arrived to continue the treatment of Arthur, Merlin rose from his friend's side and walked over to the traitor. Surprisingly, the wizard was still clinging desperately to life. "Why?" Merlin asked, his expression a mixture of rage, sorrow, and disbelief.

"It was for you Merlin," Mordred replied, blood seeping from his mouth. "He was the first obstacle to our existence and supremacy. As long as the gens non magica can be more powerful than us, they will _always_ seek to destroy us. We have the power so we ought to use it."

"You're wrong," Merlin replied.

"Am I?" he asked. "What about what they did to Luke? Or my parents? What about kidnapping me away and then trying to burn me alive when they discovered that I had magic? The gens non magica are evil and must be destroyed. My father was right. Morgana _is_ right. _We_ were meant to rule _them_. Not the other way around."

"Is that your idea of justice?" Merlin yelled in anger. "Might makes right?"

"It's not about justice," Mordred argued back. "It's about survival."

Merlin shook his head. "No."

"Merlin, don't waste your time on Arthur," Mordred said, more calmly. "Please, you can't help him. He will die no matter what you do."

"It's just a graze, he'll be fine," Merlin insisted.

"No," Mordred replied. "The sword, that was the one the _Shadow_ used to-" Mordred was interrupted by a fit of coughing but Merlin didn't need him to finish. He remembered well enough what had happened between his own father and Clarent. The sword had stabbed the Shadow in the shoulder right before he had used it to channel a killing curse straight into Lord Aurelianus. Since it was goblin made, it took in only that which made it stronger. Merlin realized now, that the sword would spell death for anyone who was cut with its blade.

"Please Merlin," Mordred continued. "I don't want to die."

"Perhaps you should have considered that before murdering my best friend," Merlin replied angrily as he marched up to the traitor and grasped Excalibur's hilt as the blade jutted out of Mordred's belly and his armor.

"Please," Mordred begged. "I have a son."

Merlin had been ready to withdraw Excalibur from the traitor's flesh when he'd heard that. "By whom?" he asked both out of curiosity and surprise, the anger vanishing from his features for a moment.

"Morgana," Mordred replied. "Please, I love them. And my son will need me. He's only an infant."

For a moment Merlin pitied Mordred. He remembered the young outcast at the Slytherin table. Merlin thought back to how happy Mordred had been when he'd been reunited with his real father. Could he really deprive another child of his father, especially since that father was someone who had once been close to him as well?

But Merlin's moment of pity was brief and it soon turned back to anger. " _Arthur's_ unborn child will also need _him_ ," he replied forcefully, tightening his grip on Excalibur and placing a foot on Mordred's chest. " _Arthur_ also loves _Guinevere_ , and if what you say is true, and he has no chance of recovery..." Merlin let the statement hang between them for a moment. "Then you deserve to die." Merlin wrenched up on the sword drawing it out of Mordred's body.

For a moment, Mordred winced in pain. He tried to cry out in agony but instead blood gushed forth from his mouth and the wound in his midsection. Then, he lay still and lifeless, staring off into the infinity of the blue sky above. Merlin turned from Mordred and strode past where Arthur lay, his physician still tending to him, trying to figure out what was the matter. Merlin raised the sword and, doing as his friend had instructed, took charge of the battle. Once again, the Argentian forces rallied and though they lost many men in their final maneuver, at the end, they were victorious.

As the last of Morgana's men fell, Merlin advanced on their leader, the witch who had been the source of so many of their problems, the witch that Merlin should have killed when he'd had the chance. Now he was going to right that mistake. " _Avada-_ " she began.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Merlin shouted, cutting her off.

The witch stumbled back as her wand was thrown far from her hand. "Wait, Emrys," she said, holding out her hand in a desperate last attempt to save her skin. "Wait. You don't want to fight for these people, they're gens non magica. Think of all the evil their kind have done." Morgana's look grew more panicked as Merlin continued to close the distance between them, a horde of very angry Argentians all around him, his firelancers at the head of the circle that closed around the witch, ready to shoot her out of the sky if she even tried to transfigure herself into a raven and escape. "Think of Luke, think of what Uther did to Gorlois!" When Merlin stopped, she thought she had finally convinced him, but her expression of victory quickly fell from her face as Merlin leveled his wand at her. "You're going to kill me?" she asked incredulously, a manic smile breaking out on her face. "You can't kill me!" she shouted. "You don't have the-"

" _Avada kedavra!_ " Merlin shouted interrupting her. It was the affair of an instant. The green bolt struck her square in the chest and Morgana fell to the ground, wide eyed and lifeless, the manic smile still upon her face. That was the first, and the last time Merlin ever cast a killing curse and his only regret, was that he hadn't done it sooner.


	22. Le Morte d'Arthur

# Le Morte d'Arthur

Merlin had remained by Arthur's side all the way back from Camlann. When they'd first returned to Camelot, Guinevere had appeared hopeful. Then she'd seen her dying husband being carried on a stretcher. The past three days she had wept by his side as Merlin did everything in his power to save his friend. When at last she had run out of tears, she had merely sat quietly holding his hand. Arthur, meanwhile, drifted in and out of consciousness as his condition worsened. The flesh around his rather minor wound had already begun to blacken, like the flesh of a corpse that had been dead for too long.

As they remained in Arthur's bedchamber, with nearly every physician on the island offering suggestions on how best to help, the leaders of the other cities waited outside. When Merlin had to leave for one thing or another, they would ask how Arthur fared. Not all of them remained outside the door at all times, however. There were usually at most three or four of them. But this time, all of them were waiting for Merlin. He knew they must want something, and Merlin could guess what it was.

"No," he said, before any of them had a chance to speak. "He's going to live," he insisted, though he was believing it less and less.

"And if he doesn't?" Lord Aquila asked. "Merlin, we need to convene the council and choose his successor."

"You want me to tell Lady Guinevere that you've given up on her husband?" Merlin asked, his temper rising. He hadn't slept since they'd returned and it was starting to show, not just in his physical appearance but also in his manner. He had become much more irritable. "She's his successor as ruler of Camelot now since she still has some time before she gives birth to Arthur's heir and even longer before that heir will be able to rule Camelot and serve on the council. If you want to convene the council to decide his successor then you'll have to tell her."

"Not necessarily," Lord Hutmorda replied.

"What do you mean not necessarily?" Merlin asked hotly.

"You could take her place," Lord Aquila suggested. He quickly continued at the look of disbelief and anger on Merlin's face. "You were his closest advisor and friend _and_ you are also his cousin."

"Second cousin," Merlin pointed out. "And that doesn't give me a right to the throne of Camelot and even if it did, I still wouldn't do it."

"Please Merlin," Lord Aquila insisted, his usually hard and stoic features softening and displaying what could have almost passed for a look of pleading. "It's what he would have wanted."

Merlin shook his head as he pushed through the assembled Lords so he could get to his chambers for more supplies. "You're already talking about him as if he was dead," he said disgustedly glancing over his shoulder before leaving them behind.

Arthur continued to hold on for another day after that when he came out of his fitful fever dreams and was lucid enough to speak. "Guinevere," he rasped. "Where's Guinevere?"

"I'm here," she replied, tears once again welling in her eyes as she moved in closer so he could see her face from where he lay, too weak to move.

"I'm sorry," he said as she stroked his face. "I promised I'd... I promised..."

"You have nothing to apologize for," she said. "You're going to be fine," she said, her voice breaking, though deep down she knew he was nearly dead.

"Merlin," Arthur said. When Merlin moved so his friend could see him. "Merlin, take care of..."

"Now don't say that," Merlin said. "Don't you even say that." Merlin tried to keep his voice steady but even as he tried to be strong for his friend, his eyes too began to water. "You're going to live, and you'll go on being a good lord and a good leader, and you'll be a great father to many, _many_ children."

"You know that's not true," Arthur replied weakly as a tear rolled down Merlin's cheek.

"I can't lose you too," Merlin insisted. He'd already lost Luke, Charles and Helena, though his relationship with them had been rockier than he would have liked. And Mordred...

Arthur seemed to read his thoughts. "It's okay," he said. "You've still got Cadogan."

Merlin shook his head and Arthur's expression changed. "He's dead too Arthur," Merlin replied, his voice breaking.

"Then I'm sorry Merlin," Arthur replied. "I'm sorry for leaving you. For leaving Guinevere, my child, everyone."

In that moment, a memory surfaced and Merlin couldn't control himself any longer. It was a memory he'd sworn he would take with him to his grave but now, with his best friend on his deathbed, the truth _had_ to be told. "It's _I_ who should be apologizing Arthur," he said.

"What for?"

"For everything. For breaking my promise, for killing your mother..."

"You didn't kill my mother," Arthur replied. "Uther did."

Merlin shook his head. "No, _I_ did. If I hadn't broken the enchantment-"

"I know," Arthur interrupted, catching Merlin by surprise. "Gorlois had told me about it before and he'd hoped you would be able to help him for the longest time but he'd never had the heart to ask it of you."

"But I..." Merlin didn't know what to say.

"A thousand things could have happened after you'd broken the enchantment Merlin," Arthur said. "That Uther killed my mother was not your fault but _his_."

"But-" Merlin wanted to protest but Arthur interrupted.

"Merlin," he said. "It wasn't your fault, and you haven't broken your promise. You've fulfilled it well, and more. That I'm dying now has nothing to do with that."

Merlin knew he was probably right but he still felt guilty and most of all, aggrieved and reluctant to let his friend go.

"Please," Arthur rasped again. "My throat is dry. Might I have some water?"

"Of course," Guinevere replied tearfully as she rose to fetch some.

It was then that an idea struck Merlin. The cup of life. That was their best answer now, they had tried everything else and even though it was likely that the cup held no real power at all, Merlin was desperate. "No!" he shouted a bit too loudly, startling everyone, including the ailing Arthur. "I'll get it."

As Guinevere sat back down, still stunned by Merlin's abruptness, he apparated to the vaults underneath the castle. He couldn't waste any time by taking the long way and walking through the castle. Merlin didn't even bother begin a manual search of the enormous and somewhat cluttered vault. Instead he whipped out his wand and exclaimed, " _Accio cup of life_!" As soon as the cup flew into his hand from the depths of the vault, crashing into all sorts of things on its way, he apparated back to Arthur's chambers.

Upon his return, Merlin filled the cup with water from his wand and brought it to his friend's lips. "Here Arthur, drink. Drink it all." And Arthur did drink, and drink, until the cup was emptied. Merlin moved to refill the cup, still hopeful that it could save Arthur's life and not yet noticing that his friend's condition continued to worsen, not improve.

Then as he aimed his wand into the cup he heard it, a most horrendous sound that Merlin had hoped he wouldn't have to hear. It was Arthur's last death rattle and as he turned back to face his friend's lifeless form, he dropped both his wand and the cup which clattered to the stone floor. Merlin looked into Arthur's eyes, blank and lifeless. As Guinevere began to weep once again, Merlin moved and closed the eyes of the Lord of Camelot. Then he too began to weep. Arthur was dead.

***

The day was bright and clear. The sun shone down upon the gathered crowd as if they were all attending a rather large festival. But this was no festival. This was a funeral. Merlin thought that it was cruel of whatever gods truly ruled this world to bestow upon them such cheerful weather on a day that was anything but. Merlin had been putting off the succession council for as long as possible. Partly because he still couldn't quite believe that Arthur was in fact, dead. It was also partly for Guinevere who was still unready to assume her duties as Camelot's ruler and her position on the Alliance council.

"After the funeral," Merlin had told the other lords. "Then we'll have the succession council." They were here too. They'd respected him and followed where he'd led, but they hadn't known or loved him as Merlin had. Some could empathize. Evawn had himself lost a brother and though Arthur was not Merlin's brother, he may as well have been.

Even so, they couldn't speak of him the way Merlin could, which was why Merlin had been made the one to give the eulogy. Now that he stood in front of the crowd though, all come to pay their respects to their lord, or their king, Merlin found he was at a loss for words. He didn't really want to say anything for what could he say? He could say much about Arthur, he could tell them of their friendship, of how they used to sneak out of the castle when they were children so they could defy Uther and help those he'd wronged. He could talk about how even then, they'd recruited Bedivere, one of Arthur's knights, to help them in their fight for justice. He could tell them the story about Lumpy their golem and how Merlin had first gotten Arthur to talk to Guinevere, the woman who was now his wife and soon to be mother of his child. He could talk about the rebellion and all the things they did together and for each other. He could talk about a million other things, how he was honorable and just but at the end, they'd just forget.

Life was for the alive. They may come to remember the dead, but eventually, the dead are forgotten. Even those who live on in history, men like Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar, only live on as shadows of the men they actually were. Their deeds are remembered but the pain of their absence is forgotten as those who remember it, those who felt it the most, also die.

It was as these thoughts swam through Merlin's mind that the weather began to turn. It came on as suddenly as the lightning strikes that it brought. The sky darkened and within a matter of moments, the entire field where they were to have the cremation was soggier than a bog. Most of the crowd fled when the weather came in leaving Merlin, Guinevere, the Lords, and Arthur's body behind.

"What is this?" Guinevere asked. "What's going on?"

"Some kind of sea storm from the north," Lord Cadwalader guessed, but Merlin knew it was more than that. He could feel a strange power within the storm, coming down on them with the water. The strange thing was, it felt familiar though he couldn't place it. It was as if he'd encountered whoever or whatever this was before but that their power was amplified several times over.

Then it became clear what was happening. Out of the pooling water a figure began to rise. A fair woman. Simply yet elegantly dressed with hair the same shade as Merlin's and eyes of blue that changed from calm and peaceful to violent and tempestuous and back again with every passing moment. "My Lords and Ladies," Merlin began. "Allow me to introduce you to the Lady of the Lake."

"You must not cremate him," the Lady said, getting right down to business.

"Why?" Lord Aquila asked.

"Because, he is part of a much greater picture than you know. He is the once and future king and without him the future of Argentia, indeed of the entire world will be lost," she replied.

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked. "How can he be? Arthur is dead. Isn't he?" Did Merlin dare to hope otherwise?

"No, not dead," she replied. "At least not completely. The water from the cup of life was enough to keep him tethered to this world but not enough to restore him to it entirely. Believe me, if it were not absolutely essential that his body remain whole, I would not have come for I am taking a great risk by leaving Avalon. Doing so threatens to bring the war to this world, the war that I and others like myself have been trying so desperately to avoid."

"So he can be saved?" Merlin asked hopefully.

The Lady nodded. "But not here, and not now."

"Then where, and when. And how?" Merlin asked eagerly.

"First you must understand that it may be centuries before he may be revived, indeed before any of you see the true light of day again," she said.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Lord Seraph asked angrily.

"It's because you came here isn't it?" Merlin asked. "They just might be coming here already." He remembered his master, the druid talking of this great war of the gods. He remembered back to his grandmother's warning of the forces that sought to destroy the world.

His grandmother nodded, confirming his fears. "What must I do?" Merlin asked.

"You must first give Arthur to me, he shall rest in the waters of Avalon until the time is right for his return. Then you must conceal the island, not just from the eyes of other men, but from the eyes of gods, especially those that seek to perpetuate the great war."

"But how?" Merlin asked.

"You must place Argentia onto one of the branches of Yggdrasil. Only there will it be safe."

"But I’m not nearly powerful enough to do that!" Merlin protested. "And even if I were, I wouldn't know how. Such a thing hasn't been done in ten thousand years."

"I will help you," the Lady insisted, "but when you do it, you cannot be on Argentia for when the time is right it must be you to bring the island back to this world.

"After you have concealed the island, you must return to the crystal cave. There the Amalgam will allow you to sleep until the time is right to restore Argentia. Once you are awakened, but before you have restored the island, you must find Bran's cauldron. It is this you shall use to fully restore Arthur. Then, you shall all be poised to fulfill your destinies."

"And what if we disagree?" Lady Easton asked.

"With all due respect Lady," Lord Aquila said, "we don't trust you."

"It is unwise to question the will of a goddess," the Lady returned, her face darkening with anger, the storm seemingly growing in intensity in response to her temper.

"Please," Merlin interrupted before anything bad happened. "I'll do as you say, but why must I sleep?"

"Because," she replied. "It may be years, centuries even before the time is right. But you should fear not, for you know that time has no meaning in the Amalgam's caves. Furthermore, your friends shall not know that a moment has passed between the time the island is hidden away and the time it is restored."

That was a daunting thought, but Merlin finally realized why he'd seen the strange war in his crystal vision, the one that had prompted him to travel to China. He then realized, that it was likely that even with the firelancers, they would be ill prepared should the vision come true. If the fate of Argentia and even the world was in such peril that it required essentially freezing the entire island in time for an unknown length, then these were troubled times indeed. "Very well," Merlin replied finally, though his companions were less sure. The Lady nodded and vanished back into the pools. Then, as quickly as it had come, the storm vanished, and Arthur's body with it, returned to Avalon where he shall rest until the time was right.

***

It had been done, Argentia had been placed on Yggdrasil, a task that had proven extremely difficult and taxing, even with his grandmother's help. Merlin knew he had been instructed to travel to the crystal cave and sleep there until the time was right, but he was beginning to trust less and less in the Lady of the Lake. It had started when she'd appeared to them at the funeral. How she'd spoken to his friends. Her veiled threat made him uneasy and caused Merlin to begin to question whether she really was the benevolent "goddess" she had made herself out to be. Merlin began to wonder if maybe, his father, _the Shadow_ had been right in his anger at her for using him as a mere pawn in her plans. It was beginning to look more and more like he was now one of those pawns, as were Arthur and the whole of Argentia, though what the game was, Merlin could not yet say.

Thus, he decided it would be wise to hedge his bets. Which was why he was now in Saxony, rather than the crystal cave. "That's some trick you managed there Prince of Charms," Frederick said, "vanishing an entire island."

"I didn't vanish it, and I didn't do it alone," Merlin replied. It was the dead of night and they were talking in hushed tones on the ground floor of Frederick's small two floor house. Upstairs slept the Saxon's wife and two young children. "Besides, it doesn't matter. I have something I need to give you."

"And what is that?"

Merlin pulled out a roll of parchment. He unrolled it on the table and it showed a map of Britannia. It was the same map Merlin had used to find the crystal cave the first time around. "I need you to keep this safe. I will be going away for a long time and may not return for years, possibly even centuries. I know it sounds crazy but you have to trust me. Keep it safe until I return, do whatever it takes."

"Why?" the Saxon asked, more out of curiosity than anything else as he took the map.

"Because of someone I'm working with. I've been working with her for some time but I've started to suspect that she's not trustworthy," Merlin explained without revealing too much. "That map is my insurance."

"How?"

"Because it shows where I'm going. But here's the really important part Frederick," Merlin continued. "You can't come looking for me. Men get lost in that cave and never come out. And that map, it shouldn't leave the possession of you or your family if it comes to that."

Reluctantly, Frederick agreed, and Merlin thanked him for his help, leaving what remained of his Argentian silver coins with him as a parting gift. Merlin suspected he wasn't going to need the silver anymore by the time he awakened and the Saxon usually needed some pecuniary motivation to do anything.

Then Merlin made his way back to the crystal cave. When he finally reached the place he'd been before, with the strange slab of crystal, he found the Amalgam. "It was wise of you to leave the map with the Saxon," the Amalgam said in its strange manner of speaking multiple things at once with multiple voices.

"Why?" Merlin asked.

The Amalgam gestured to the slab which Merlin now realized was indeed a bed. "Come sleep and I shall show you."


	23. Epilogue

# Epilogue

The day was warm and peaceful. Sun shone through the leaves of the trees as the light summer breezes blew through them. Quentin Oliver Jamison, or Q as he was often called by his friends and family, walked through the small wood on the mountainside, enjoying the weather. This summer, his family had decided to go camping in the Rockies of Wyoming and he was glad they had. His brother Andy wasn't so big on it. He was more of a city boy, but Q quite enjoyed the fresh air and the exploration opportunities in the wilderness. You couldn't get much of those things living in the densely populated Salt Lake City area.

As Q wandered further and further from camp, breathing the surrounding air fresh into his lungs and occasionally bending down to inspect whatever things had caught his eye, he came across something he hadn't expected to find. It was a wooden box, half buried and about twice the size of his history textbook from school.

Q moved in to pick it up. He cleared the soil away from it and pulled it out of the ground. At first he thought it had been something left by a previous camper, but then he realized that the box was much older than that. Probably from around the Civil War he guessed.

Q opened the box and inside he found what looked like a diary, a tome that looked to be written in some strange foreign language, and a rolled up piece of old parchment. The pages on everything seemed to be decaying so Q handled everything carefully.

He picked up the diary and turned to a page in it. It was written in English, thankfully, and Q noticed the date on the page he had turned to, "August 12, 1860". Just before the civil war. It seemed that whoever had written the diary had been some kind of explorer, though what he'd been looking for Q didn't know. There were several pages from the diary that had rotted away completely and Q supposed his exact reasons for being out here in the wilderness had been in there.

Q skipped to the last few pages of the diary and found that they had been wet with blood. He read the last entry intently. " _They are coming for me_ ," it said. " _I know it's me they want, they rather fancy human flesh these creatures. All the same, I must hide the book, and the map. Especially the map. If they find both me and them, then I shall have completely failed in the task my family has been charged with for centuries. Already it is clear that I have partially failed. I do not think I shall live to father children to carry on the task of protecting the map. I have been poisoned by one of their arrows and it seems even the bezoar was not enough. This will probably be my last entry. To whoever finds this I ask, please carry on what I failed to do._ " The final entry was signed, " _Gerald van Alrick._ "

Once Q had finished, he set down the diary, wondering about the strange people eating creatures with poison arrows and this Gerald's use of a bezoar to try and cure the poison. Most of all though, Q was curious about the book and the map. The book he couldn't read, at least not yet, but the map might be another matter. Q guessed that the roll of parchment was the map he'd read about and when he opened it, he was not disappointed. It was a map of Britain, though it was clearly a very old one, even older than the diary yet somehow still better preserved. Even better was that Q recognized what was written on it. It wasn't in English, but in Latin. He'd taken some Latin courses online, just to satisfy his curiosity and he could actually understand most of what was written on the map. The most prominent note on the map was next to a spot in Wales. It read, "Crystal Cave."

Q was about to start reading through the diary some more in the hopes of finding answers to the growing mystery when he heard his father calling him back to camp. Q quickly rolled up the parchment and put everything back in the box and buried it again. He wouldn't be able to today, but somehow, he had to figure out how to take the box home with him. Q had to get to the bottom of this, more to satisfy his own curiosity than anything else.

The next day, when Q had devised his plan for sneaking the strange box home with him, he went back out to the spot and retrieved it and at home in the dark hours, when he was able to do as he pleased without interference, he would sneak the box out from under his bed and open it, trying to learn its secrets.


End file.
